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littlemisslol-fic · 2 years

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The Silent Opera

Chapter Five: Off Key

Summary: In a world populated by Soulmates— people drawn together by wordless music connecting them to their destined other half— Varian is an anomaly. He is Songless, someone without a Soulmate of his own. He makes due with the cards dealt to him, used to being the castle oddity by now, but when an interesting blond takes up residence in the castle, he can't help but be drawn to him.

Hugo, on the other hand, is horrified to find that not only is his Soulmate a palace brat, but that Varian doesn't hear him back— meaning Hugo is trapped in a one-sided bond. When presented with a horrible choice between completing the theft Donella had sent him to do, or taking a frightening step into vulnerability, Hugo finds himself at an impasse he just might not be able to charm his way out of.

And then politics get involved.

Notes: Hey hey everyone! The honeymoon phase is over-- lets get this party started!! Time for me to start earning that meodrama tag! In other news, the beautiful notapeacefulduck on tumblr drew some absolutely ADORABLE art for this fic, which you can find over here!! I love how it's so cute, and Ruddiger is my favorite little mans 🥺🥺

Hugo, not from lack of trying, ends up stuck in the great hall.

One of the maids— Fate? Whatever, she’s forgettable— snags him by the elbow and tells him all castle employees have to be present for the announcing of their guest, though whyHugo couldn’t tell you. Maybe to make their visitor feel like a super special big boy, maybe to make up for the fact that he looks like a fucking peacock.

Up close, the man isn’t exactly much to write home about. He’s maybe a bit older than Hugo—by a year or two at best—with pale, almost sunken skin and darting, black eyes. A gruff, well-trimmed beard frames an impossibly blank face, the man regarding the people of Corona with an impassive stare. His jacket is emblazoned with medals, silvers and gold and little flags that mean fuck all, and his shoulders are draped in a large cloak of rich, dark fur. The guy looks like a ponce.

He enters the great hall in even, measured strides, barely sparing a glance to the crowd as he leads his procession. The king and queen sit on their thrones, as does the princess and her husband. Oddly enough, Varian stands with them. Hm. That’s odd; in all the other royal court business Varian’s been stuck next to Hugo. He knows this, because last time they’d had a grand procession, Hugo had spent the entire hour trying to step on Varian’s toes to break his composure

Hugo’s thrown from his thought as the Song shrieksin his ear, a terrified cacophony of noise that makes him flinch at the abruptness. He nearly brings his hands up to cover his ears, only just stopping himself before someone can notice. Hugo’s eyes snap back to Varian, the alchemist standing ramrod straight next to Eugene. Varian’s eyes are bright, his skin pale; Hugo’s eyes widen in surprise— is he scared? Varian looks like an animal caught in a trap, stiff and shaking. The Song screams even louder as the visitor approaches the dais, ramping up in octave and sound—

Nigel, next to Frederick, unrolls a large piece of parchment, clears his throat and reads it out loud to the crowd.

“Announcing Grand Duke Landis Fountaine, Lord of Dorgoil House,” Nigel declares, his voice ringing through the castle. “Emissary for the Kingdom of Socria, heir apparent to the Grand Dutchy of Kaivell; Son of Grand Duke Sevim Fountaine, nephew of King Fehnur of Socria. The Kingdom of Corona welcomes you, Your Grace.”

Blah, blah, blabbity blah. What a long-winded way of saying some guy born into money.

Landis stops his march in front of the royal family, bowing deeply. “It is an honor to be invited to fair Corona,” he says, voice echoing. Barf. “I hope that we are able to come to an amicable agreement for both sides.”

The Song, somehow, manages to ramp up another octave. Fuck, what is it with Varian? There’s got to be some kind of history here, right? Sure, Landis has huge douche energy but he’s nowhere near scary. The FearTerrorAnxiety Varian’s projecting is definitely out of proportion; it makes Hugo feel twitchy, a million ants crawling under his skin. He fucking hates it.

“Of course,” Frederick says. His voice fills the room, authoritative to a fault. He turns from Landis then, addressing the rest of the castle staff. “The Grand Duke is my honored guest. He and his men shall be addressed with the same respect you would give to a member of our own nobility. You may return to your duties.” He then turns back to his guest, standing from his throne. “If you would follow me, Your Grace.”

The royals all begin to file out through a door to the back of the room. The rest of the castle occupants begin to leave through the main doors, scattering to the wind. Hugo has half a mind to try and follow the royal family, more to sate his own curiosity than anything, when he registers the Song growing louder.

He forces himself not to turn around until he feels a hand on his elbow, ignoring Varian until anyone else would know he’s there. When he does turn to be face-to-face with Varian, his first thought is oh, he looks much worse up close.

Because he does. The paleness in his skin is much more pronounced, his freckles standing out much more; his eyes, shiny and blue, dart around a little, flicking from Hugo to the throne room, and back again. He’s hiding it, but not well. Interesting.

“H--hey,” Varian says. Hugo finds it within himself not to comment on the voice crack. “Hey, sorry I just kind of. Uh. Left you. In the garden.”

“Oh, yeah.” Yeah, he had, hadn’t he? “Whatever, it’s fine.”

Hugo rubs a hand along the back of his neck, already wanting this conversation to end. Shit, his hair’s getting long, he might need to cut it while he’s here… oh, shit, Varian’s still talking, right.

“—I just needed to get ready for, uh, this, you know?” He gestures to the empty thrones, the royals long since fucked off to do whatever. Probably gloat about how great they think they are. Hugo’s silence seems to spark something in Varian, his words coming quicker to fill the gap.

“Because, you know, with everything, I had to, uh. I didn’t want to be here, but since— with Landis, and—”

Hey, yeah.

“What is that about, anyways?” Hugo tries to keep his tone light. He regrets the question the second he says it; Varian’s Song almost stutters in a freeze, the needle hopping the record tread in Varian’s thoughts. For a heart-stopping second, things go quiet. Hugo barely has time to breathe before the Song returns, strong once more. Varian coughs roughly into his fist, looking away.

“I—right. You weren’t here, last year.”

“Last year?”

“They were here. Landis and his father. This was back when we were only just starting to hear whispers from Equis.” He pauses then, looking around. Though the crowd has thinned, he scans the area and must deem it lacking, as Varian juts his chin and gestures for Hugo to follow.

They leave through a side door, into a service hallway. Hugo hadn’t even known this one was here, what the hell—

“Okay.” Varian keeps walking, but at a slower pace so Hugo can keep up. “This time last year, Socria sent Landis and his father here, at our request.”

Something about how Varian refers to the guy so casually makes Hugo want to bite something.

“Okay, got it. Why are they back?”

Varian winces. “Fred wants an alliance. Socria has one of the largest armies in a thousand leagues; if we were allied with them, Equis would think twice about doing anything… rash.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, goggles.”

Varian huffs. “I’m getting to it. Last year negotiations hit a— I don’t know, call it a bump. They wanted something, something a little more binding than a contract.”

“What, a human sacrifice?”

“No— what? No, why would you even think that?”

Hugo shrugs, pulling a face. Varian rolls his eyes, clearly unimpressed.

“No, not that. Corona and Socria aren’t… the best of friends. A little ink on paper isn’t enough for them. We frankly offered more than we should—” he grumbles that part, someone must be bitter, “—but they wanted a guarantee that the bargain would be upheld. That’s where Landis comes in.”

“And? What’s the ponce going to do?”

Varian scratches the back of his neck. He stops, then, in the middle of the abandoned hall. It’s darker here, less light from the torches throw Varian’s face in shadows.

“He’s Songless, too,” Varian says, like that explains anything. Hugo’s face must show how confused he is, as Varian curses under his breath. “Fuck’s sake. He doesn’t have a Soulmate, Hugo. Neither do I. I know Koto had the same idea with their Songless nobles, one of your princesses went through the exact same thing two years ago.”

Hugo wracks his brain, trying to remember. He’d been on a job in Galcrest, but he’d heard talk of a big stir in the political landscape between Koto and Ingvarr, one that finally ended through…

Oh.

Oh fuck.

“An arranged marriage?!” he squawks at the very idea, stumbling back a few paces. His back smacks into the wall, his thoughts reeling at the implications. Shock flows through him, an electric current up Hugo’s spine. What the fresh hell--

Varian throws his hands up, covering Hugo’s mouth with a snarl. “Shut up!” His face twists into an ugly expression. “Do you want half the castle to hear you?!”

Hugo slaps at Varian’s arms, offended. Varian fixes him with a look before letting him go, backing off enough that Hugo can breathe. The blond gasps for air, still reeling.

“Are you kidding me?” Hugo asks, searching Varian’s face for some indication of a joke— he can’t find one, but that won’t stop him from trying. “Goggles, you?”

Varian’s sneer gets a little more pronounced. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Hugo rolls his eyes, gritting his teeth against his beating heart. “You know I don’t mean it like that, I mean, why not some other noble kid, why you?”

Varian bristles, shoulders hiking. “It wasn’t my idea,” he snaps, still whispering despite how alone they are in the hallway, “and everyone else is protected by having a Soulmate already. In deals like this, they take what they can get.”

“But—”

But this isn’t what was supposed to happen.

“—What if you don’t get along? Do you even like him?”

Varian shifts back at that, blinking rapidly at the sudden shift in gears. Hugo nearly does the same— where the fuck did that come from?— but stops when his back meets the stone wall once again. Varian scratches at his cheek, not meeting Hugo’s eye. “He’s alright,” the alchemist says vaguely, “I only met him a few times, last year. Mostly that was Frederick showing off what I could do— what I could make. He’s… he’s fine. It’s fine.”

“It doesn’t sound fine.”

Varian sucks in a breath through his nose. “It’s an honor to serve my country.” It’s robotic. Obviously a line that’s been fed to him. His face softens, turning into a simple frown. “And untimely, it’s not up to me. You have to keep this to yourself, okay? The general public doesn’t know, we’re keeping it quiet until the contracts are signed— so no blabbing.”

That’s accented by Varian shoving his finger into Hugo’s face. It’s not very threatening, but Hugo’s still reeling. An arranged marriage… his Soulmate’s in an arranged marriage—

“Sure.” His voice is choked. “Yeah. My lips are sealed.”

Fuck.

—————♪—————

Dinner that night is interesting. At least, that’s a word for it.

Usually, the castle staff eat in a canteen, one near the kitchens deep in the center of the castle, while the royals above dine in luxury. Though really, even the servant’s food here’s pretty good; Hugo would be lying if he said he could do better. Usually, Hugo would sit on his lonesome in the dining hall, off to the side by his own doing. He likes to take the time to decompress, to get lost in his own thoughts. Varian rarely joins him, usually dining with his father or the princess, but there’s still the occasional time he would show up and eat next to Hugo, the silence a mile wide between them. Hugo’s pretty sure, if he weren’t there, Varian would eat alone too.

Tonight, however, is a grand feast to celebrate the Grand Duke’s arrival, so unfortunately for Hugo he ends up trapped in the great hall of the castle with every other schmuck who’s ever worked here, doing his best to pretend he has table manners while also trying to wipe the last of his stew from the bowl with a piece of bread. He gets a few bitchy looks from some of the maids, but fuck them; food is food, and he won’t let it go to waste.

Up at the head table sits the royal family and their esteemed guest, the guy who already pisses Hugo off. If you asked why, he wouldn’t be able to tell you… other than the usual. Hugo already can’t stand the way the ponce struts around like a fucking peacock, all wrapped up in fancy clothes like they make him any more of a man. Fucking irritating.

Hugo presses his lips flat as he catches sight of a familiar crown of black hair walking up near the nobles’ table; Varian shifts awkwardly as he makes his way to the front, returning from a brief absence a few minutes ago. Hugo tracks him with his eyes, zeroing in on him as the Song flutters with anxiety. It picks up the closer Varian gets to the table, until it’s almost a high-pitched scream that rattles around Hugo’s skull.

Landis sees Varian’s arrival, standing from his own seat to pull Varian’s out for him. Disgusting. Varian seems awkward about it, which does absolutely nothing to simmer down the boiling pot that is Hugo’s mood right now; if anything it’s worse, when Landis says something and Varian politely smiles. Fuck. Fuck.

Hugo slaps his spoon down onto the table with an audible clack. He’s suddenly not very hungry. In fact, he’s starting to feel suck. A clustering, twisting feeling settling into his stomach, one that grows every second he has to look at the ponce and his little entourage. Just a wannabe tough guy, who probably never did a day of hard labor in his life— and yet here he was, just getting whatever he wanted, like usual for fucking royals.

Hugo’s muscles feel tight. Like he’s ready to jump the table and either run away or punch someone in the face. He feels fucking feral. And the worst part? He’s not entirely sure why.

Rapunzel doesn’tkick up the same reaction, neither does Eugene. Varian makes Hugo want to antagonize him, but not like this. Not like a thousand little ants crawling under his skin, itchy and demanding and making him twitchy. Maybe it’s something in Landis’ smug, punchable face that makes him so very easy to hate. Maybe it’s the way he walks, stomping around in his stupid boots and towering over everyone. Hell, maybe he’s just an asshole.

Either way, Hugo can’t wait for this whole thing to blow over. He glares at the nobles again as Landis leans over to whisper something to Varian, pulling a genuine laugh from him. The Song trills in amusement, but Hugo’s sure if Varian could hear him back—

But he can’t. Right. Right.

The blond winces, looking down into his empty bowl. Of course. Varian can’t hear him. The twist in his stomach rises up into his chest, a thick knot in his throat he can barely breathe past. Varian can’t hear him. Varian doesn’t know that Hugo’s mind rattles with his Song every hour of the day, doesn’t know that he’s not Songless for no reason, doesn’t know that Hugo can’t man up and fucking try…

Whatever.

Whatever. He can’t crumble about some stupid fucking pretty boy with a martyr complex. Hugo’s better than that. Better than whining over a bond that isn’t reciprocated. Better than wanting a Soulmate, better than wanting to Sing.

Better than wanting to try.

Landis stands then, toasting the crowd with a graceful movement. Uppity prick. The ponce smiles at the castle staff with teeth so bright they almost shine. His back is ramrod straight with one arm tucked behind him. He stands like a soldier. He stands like an asshole.

“Good people of Corona,” Landis says to them, voice absolutely dripping with slimy smugness, “I thank you all for your hospitality. It has been far too long since I was in the presence of such amicable people, and in such a beautiful House. I’m sure that this conference shall bring the people of Socria and Corona together as allies, and as friends. I’m sure the coming months will prove to be beneficial to all parties, and I once again thank you for welcoming myself and my men to your fair country.”

Polite applause breaks out across the hall as Landis toasts them again. Hugo can’t even bring himself to join it, instead crossing his arms pointedly and glaring at the man.

He scowls, glaring as the royal family stand from their seats. Frederick gives another boring address to the crowd, bidding them all a good night, before they begin to leave. The King and Queen go first, Rapunzel and Eugene following close behind. Landis walks next to Varian; Hugo zeros in on where their hands brush against each other, almost touching.

He looks away before he actually vomits.

—————♪—————

Hugo’s been acting weird. Well, weirder than usual.

Varian can’t quite put his finger on it. He’s more irritable, that’s for sure, snappy and tightly strung, but Varian can’t figure out why. It can’t be because of the garden, right? Hugo had said they were okay about that, hadn’t he? Varian combs through his memories, trying to pick out what exactly he’d done to sour Hugo to him, but comes up empty.

Ah, well. Unfortunately, Varian has more to worry about. Hugo would have to wait.

The party from Socria had settled well into the castle. It’s hard to believe it’s only been a week since their arrival; Varian’s felt the tension tightening with every second Landis is here, the crank turning and turning until something is going to snap. He’s not sure why— but he knows better than to question his gut, by now. He’s nervous, and he knows it— something that isn’t helped by not only the King, but Nigel, Rapunzel, and Eugene all breathing down his back every second of the day.

It’s agonizing. Varian’s never been the most charming of people, especially not when it came to things of a more romantic inclination. He stillcringes when he thinks back to m’lady, of being fourteen and convinced that he liked a woman nearly twice his age. Not his finest hour. Not his worst, either, but it’s definitely up there. He’s only thankful that, in matters of this whole charade, Landis is the one who is in charge of doing the court-ing, as he’s the one with higher stature. Quirin may be a village leader but he’s still only a knight: Frederick’s vassal. Neither he, nor Varian as his heir, had anything on a Grand Duke, of all things.

So. At least there’s that.

Varian rubs at the bridge of his nose, blankly staring at the book in his lap. He’s on one of the many balconies, sitting on a stone bench and blatantly ignoring his work as he puzzles over everything. If Varian had his way, he’d be locked away in the lab or the library, hidden deep in the depths of science and information— you know, where things make sense. Where X=Y and reactions are spot on every time; not surrounded by people who constantly twist their words and try to pin him like a bug to a board.

He sighs, scratching behind Ruddiger’s ears. The raccoon, curled up near his hip on the bench, lets out a coo and snuggles closer in his sleep. Hm. At least someone’s happy.

He rubs at the place where eye meets nose, blinking the sunlight away and trying to read again. Despite his best attempts, the words refuse to stick, no matter how many times he reads the first paragraph. His thoughts scatter to the wind, swirling around and impossible to catch for long enough to get a coherent concept of them. Brutal, just brutal.

“Varian?”

Oh. He twists on his bench, tilting his head in acknowledgment at the figure standing in the doorway.

“Hi, princess,” he says, turning back to his book. Rapunzel helps herself to the spot next to him, so that Ruddiger sits between them. She’s fidgety, her bare feet tapping on the tiles in a little rhythm only she can hear. Probably to Eugene’s Song, if Varian were to guess. Rapunzel shifts on the bench, turning a bit so she faces him. Oh boy, here we go.

“Soooo,” she draws out the word, hands clasped together as she sways back and forth. Varian keeps his face carefully blank, tensing as he waits for the inevitable question. She taps her fingers twice more before she finally speaks. “How’s your day been?”

Oh, wait, that’s not what he was expecting.

“Fine, I guess—”

“And how are you and Landis getting along?”

God fucking damn it.

Varian groans, tilting his head back until it hits the stone back of the bench with a small thud. Rapunzel winces, patting his arm.

“That bad, huh?”

The alchemist can feel his nose wrinkling, his entire face scrunching together as he tries to find a diplomatic way to say what he needs to. He finally settles on something, though it’s not quite right.

“He’s… okay.”

Rapunzel bites at her lip, trying to hold back either a laugh or a grimace. Varian can’t figure out which.

“You can say what you want to,” she tells him, “I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

Ha, as if. She’d never do it out of malice, but if she knew exactly how miserable he already was, she’d surely stage a coup or something else drastic. But… her eyes are earnest, honest. Varian sighs: he knows that she’s just worried about him, probably feeling guilty in a way. Cutting out his loved ones isn’t going to do him any good.

“He’s not very fun to talk to,” Varian admits. “Kind of boring. He’s… very serious, about this whole thing. I don’t know, it feels awkward.”

She nods. The hand on his shoulder loops around to tug him into a half-hug. “Awkward like you just don’t know him yet, or awkward like he’s been saying something?”

Varian mulls it over, nibbling at his bottom lip. “Awkward like he’s treating this like a business transaction?” It comes out as a question. “Hm I— I guess I was hoping he might be a little more… friendly. Since we’re going to be. Uh. You know.”

Rapunzel nods. “I understand that,” she says, “maybe he just needs a bit longer to get used to everything, too. I’m sure both of you being under a lot of pressure to get along also isn’t helping.” She grumbles the last part; Varian knows she’s thinking about her father’s insistence on this deal working.

He sighs. Varian scratches idly at his cheek, not meeting her eye, thinking hard. “I…” he finally breaks the silence, “I never thought of it that way. I guess it’s a weird spot for both of us.”

“Give it a bit more time. You never know, maybe you two will find a common ground somewhere.” When he looks at her with a flat expression, she laughs. “Hey, it’s a long shot, but I said maybe.”

He can’t help but giggle when she tugs him into another hug. He hugs her back, this time, arms wrapping around her. Varian’s hip hurts from leaning on it to avoid Ruddiger, but his heart feels warm for the first time in days.

“I can give it another shot,” he says, “and I’ll try my best to make it work.”

“That’s more than we could ask for,” she replies. She pulls back and looks him in the eye, her expression serious. “But if he says anything you don’t like, you come right to me, okay? Just because he’s a Duke—”

“—Grand Duke.”

“—Whatever. Just because he’s got a fancy title, that doesn’t mean you don’t get a say, alright?”

Varian scratches at Ruddiger’s ears again, not quite meeting her eye. “I can take care of myself,” he assures her.

She pouts, punching his shoulder in jest. “Oh, I’m aware.” Her voice doesn’t even fluctuate, “But last time he was here, he called Pascal a newt; I just want to find an excuse to hit him.”

That does it. Varian bursts out laughing, wheezing as Rapunzel joins him. The seriousness of the moment dissipates, turning to dust as they giggle together. Rapunzel wipes a tear away, leaning over to bump their shoulders together.

“It’ll all work out,” she tells him, “just give it some time.”

Varian bumps her back, still smiling as she takes her leave. She rustles his hair when she passes him, laughing when he swats at her. Rapunzel’s footsteps are quiet against the tile, fading out as she disappears back into the castle. The alchemist sighs, brushing Ruddiger again.

“Give it some time,” he says quietly. “Yeah. I can try that.”

“I’d appreciate it, if you would,” a voice comes from behind. Varian twists in his seat, seeing Landis standing in the doorframe. Ah. Okay.

“Your Grace,” he says, standing from the bench. Landis steps forward— gods, he’s tall. At least a head and a half taller than Varian, and maybe a dozen stone heavier— and fixes Varian with an expectant look.

“Varian,” he greets. “I was wondering if you’d care to go on a walk around the castle together.”

Maybe you two will find a common ground somewhere…

Varian smiles hesitantly, nodding. “Sure,” he says, “that sounds nice.”

Easy way to get to know each other, he thinks to himself. It could be fun.

—————♪—————

It’s fucking awkward, is what it is.

Varian rubs at the back of his neck as they walk down the halls together, one covered in different vases and paintings from different countries. He doesn’t know one from the other— beyond blueprinting, he was never much of a connoisseur— but thankfully this little tour isn’t very in depth. Instead, he tries to make light conversation, his hands wringing together to fight the shaking trying to take over. Gods, it’s just a conversation, he needs to get a grip.

“So,” Varian starts, looking off to the side. A painting of a pair of birds looks back at him. “Um, how are you liking Corona, so far?”

Landis stares ahead, keeping an even pace. “It’s too hot.”

“Oh, well, I know that the lower levels are cooler, they’re not as fancy, but if you wanted we could—”

“No, thank you. Your king will take it as an insult.”

Shit. Right. Varian feels his face heat up, wincing at his own idiocy. Landis blinks once, his face smoothing over. The frown leaves, but it’s still not a smile— just less of a grimace.

“Sorry,” the Grand Duke says, “I’ve been told I’m blunt.”

“Oh, no, no, it’s— it’s fine.” Fuck, he keeps tripping over his words. “I’m just not used to all… this. I’m pretty bad at politics.”

Landis only tilts his head in agreement. “I am the same,” he admits. “Was always more suited for war, than diplomacy. But there are very few Songless in each generation; we become important because of that.”

Varian winces at the term. “Right,” he agrees. His future is ruined because he’s fucking Songless—

“But I hope we can at least be amicable.” Landis’ face quirks up then. It’s not quite a smile, still too stony and cold, but it could be, under the right lighting. “Seeing as we’ll be in close quarters soon enough.”

Varian laughs, awkwardly. Seven Hells, he hadn’t even thought of that, yet, let alone their impending future. The heat in his face gets worse.

“Anyways.” Landis stops, then, standing in front of one of the paintings. “While we may not be Soulmates, I’m sure we can at least find comradery in the silence. A lot more than our futures lay on the shoulders of this deal.” He turns back to the painting, looking it over. Varian mirrors him, grateful for the lull in conversation.

It’s an old one, from well before Frederick’s grandfather’s time, given to them from a kingdom far across the seas. Varian sighs, staring up into the painted scene of the god Apollo chasing the nymph, Daphne. Rapunzel had told him the story: one she’d read in her mythology books. He can’t help but sympathize. Turning into a tree wouldn’t be so bad, Varian thinks.

Because Landis is right, of course. With the rumbles of military activity in Equis, an alliance like the one presented is Corona’s only real hope at survival. If it falls through, so much more than Varian’s future will be ruined; war, regardless of who won, was always hell on either side. Varian sighs, shaking his head. He knows Rapunzel is furious about him having to take the fall for them all. It’s not fair— but it’s what has to happen. And it all flows back to one, singular problem.

“I never did hear it,” Varian admits quietly, “the Song. I was born without it.” He’s not sure why he’s extending this olive branch. Maybe to find that common ground Rapunzel had talked about. Maybe just to sate his own curiosity. Though he’s been all over Hell’s half-acres looking for someone to fix him, he’s never actually metanother Songless person. It makes him want to compare notes.

Landis’ eyes seem distant, his back straightening a little more. Varian fidgets, waiting for a reply—how the fuck did he mess this up already? The silence stretches just that bit too long, breaking into something awkward, before he speaks.

“I used to.”

Ah. Shit.

“I— I’m so sorry, you don’t have to tell me—”

“It’s fine.” Landis looks at him then, staring down the bridge of his nose. “I never knew her. One day I woke up and the Song was just… gone. I was around seventeen, at the time.” He laughs then, shaking his head. It sounds bitter. “Is it strange, to mourn someone you’ve never really known?”

Varian puzzles on it for just a second, before shaking his head. “I don’t think so,” he says. “You may not have met— her?— before, but she was still a part of your life. Our whole kingdom mourned Rapunzel for eighteen years, before she came back, and she was only the princess to us.” He turns to Landis, who’s looking away again. “Of course it’s natural to mourn her loss. I’m sorry I brought it up.”

Landis doesn’t look back to him, focusing in on Daphne’s painted face. She looks terrified, as she runs from Apollo. A rabbit, running from a wolf. The Grand Duke smiles then, a real one, but showing altogether too many teeth.

“You’re an interesting thing, Varian.” His voice makes a slight chill run up the alchemist’s spine. Landis spins on his heel and bows to him then, never breaking eye contact. “Though I must go to continue discussions with your King, I look forward to our next conversation. This one has been quite… enlightening.”

“Uh—”

“And before I forget, your King, Frederick, was saying that he planned on hosting a masquerade in the near future. I’ll be escorting you, so make sure to wear something other than red. It’ll clash.”

“Aren’t you supposed to ask me—”

“I just did. Again, no red.” Landis straightens his jacket, turning away. “Until next time.”

And just like that, Landis walks past him, in the direction they’d already come from. He moves fast, for such a big guy; he’s almost around a nearby corner when the alchemist realizes what’s happening. Varian blinks quickly, shaking himself and watching the man disappear behind the corner before Varian can get a word out.

“Right… okay, good talk.”

And Varian thought he was fucking weird. Maybe Landis had taken one too many jousting spears to the head.

Varian huffs out a rush of air, shaking his head. That was the conversational equivalent of slamming his own foot in a door, but at least this time he’d managed to keep from making a total ass of himself. Something still felt somewhat… off, though; like there’s something he’s missing, some feeling in his gut demanding he look harder.

Nerves? Maybe, though Varian’s not one to ignore his instincts on a whim. The alchemist sighs, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. Too much stress, not enough sleep: he’s probably going fucking crazy.

Fuck it, he’s going to the lab. He’s spent too long pretending that nothing was weird about this whole charade, he needs to go back to the land of textbooks and experiments. He’s spent too much time in the land of uncertainty—he needs something solid and quantifiable.

He needs some time to decompress.

—————♪—————

Hugo’s been put semi-in-charge of the plant thing. He doesn’t know exactly why; fucking Varian is the one who figured that shit out, and he’s the one who grew up in buttfuck nowhere growing corn or whatever. He should be the one testing soil acidity, that uppity fuck. If Varian wasn’t so busy with this whole thing with the Socrians, surely he’d be the one mixing together a bunch of useless compounds. But no, since Varian’s busy, Hugo’s the one stuck down here in this shitty lab with thirty shitty bean stalks in individual cups.

The raccoon had joined him about an hour ago, looking grumpy without his usual human. Varian’s pet had taken up residence on the table near Hugo, watching him with beady, judgmental eyes. So maybe it’s like Varian had never really left, actually.

Hugo stares right back at Ruddiger, pointing at him with a glass pipette.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” he asks, like the raccoon is going to reply. “Like, I don’t know, digging in garbage? Eating a rat? Something?”

Ruddiger blinks slowly before turning in little circles for a brief second and settling down with a huff. When Varian’s pet had entered the lab through a little pet door, Hugo had expected his royal pain in the ass to show up soon after, but he hadn’t.

So, it’s just been Hugo and the fucking trash panda this whole time.

Hugo sighs, letting his hand drop. He takes a test of the new compound, using the pipette to extract the correct amount before dropping it on a small beanstalk. It’s labeled with the number seventeen, the other sixteen set off to the side in little groups depending on what he’d boosted the soil with. The rest are to the side, awaiting their mixtures, lined up like little soldiers.

Hugo sighs, watching the blue liquid drip into the dirt, absorbing quickly. The Song’s been mostly quiet lately, subdued, and sad in a way that made Hugo’s heart heavy. Varian must be miserable, wherever he is… though Hugo’s still annoyed by having to pick up the slack he leaves behind. Babysitting a bunch of plants wasn’t really on his bucket list, but hey, at least it’s quiet…

Until Varian strolls in like he owns the place.

Okay, well technically it’s his lab, so he does, but that’s beside the point. Varian slumps into a chair like he hadn’t even registered Hugo’s presence, though from the exhausted expression on his face that absolutely might be the case.

“Oh, why hello there,” Hugo greets. “It’s about time you came back to help me with our children.” He holds up beanstalk seventeen by the pot, wiggling it gently and pitching his voice to be high and squeaky. “Father, why have you forgotten us?”

Varian blinks, squinting. The Song pauses for a second as Varian’s brain continues to chug along, before sparking into a rush of mirth. Varian, in turn, laughs, reaching over and taking the plant from him.

“Oh, I’m so sorry my son,” Varian coos, holding the plant close, “I’ve been so busy.” He goes so far to press a smooch to one of the leaves. Laughter bursts out of Hugo’s chest before he can stop it, ending in a wheeze that echoes around the lab. Varian’s voice joins him, a harmony that fills the room with glowing joy. It’s… it’s stunning.

Hugo has to take his glasses off, wiping at his eyes to chase away the laughter. The Song swells, burrowing into a little space under his heart and sending warmth through his chest. He’s never felt anything like this, the way Varian’s own laughter mixes with his own and amplifies it. Even without the Song to sing its joy, being able to let go and goof off is… well, it’s nice. He never got many chances, back home. Hugo laughs as his breath is stolen, gone for a terrifyingly exhilarating second.

Hugo sucks in air at last, overwhelmed. The Song is all encompassing, loud and amazing and terrifying and beautiful— the sunlight just catches Varian’s eye, making them twinkle. Hugo’s stomach swoops out from under him, but it’s not a bad feeling; just one of connection, of a puzzle piece slotting in place. The little click in his heart feels like coming home.

Which is fucking horrifying. The joy—one built by the Song demanding attention, no more no less—simmers right out, a dying ember under torrential rain. Because what the fuck is that about? He’s not some simpering fuck, no matter what his one-sided bond wants to demand of him. He takes Varian’s distraction to shake himself, shoving the Song to the back of his mind—where it fucking belongs.

The other alchemist finally settles, gasping for breath and completely ignorant of Hugo’s turn of thoughts.

“Oh, Sun help me,” Varian wheezes, putting the plant down. “I haven’t— Hugo, you can’t go being funny when I’m trying to sulk, you’ll ruin my whole thing.”

“Sorry, sweetcheeks,” the blond says. He needs to get this back to familiar waters—back to antagonism and pulling proverbial pigtails. “I see a sad face and I just have to fix it; you’ll have to get used to it.”

Varian fixes him with an unreadable look, something halfway between amused, calculating, and jubilant— Hugo, for once, doesn’t feel judged or like he’s being picked apart; Varian looks at him like a puzzle to be solved, one that the alchemist wants to fiddle with until he finds his answer. It’s exhilarating, the idea of this cat-and-mouse that’s slowly making itself known. C’mon, catch me.

A smile breaks out across Varian’s face, one that’s warm in so many wonderful ways.

“I think I could.” He says it lightly, leaning an elbow on the table to prop up his head, “Get used to it, I mean. Given enough time.”

Hugo opens his mouth to make another witty reply, to keep the game going, to listen—

A knock, at the door.

Varian perks up, looking at the door. The smile’s gone, slipping into something carefully blank. Hugo twists in his chair, his good mood vanishing when he sees who has interrupted them.

“Varian,” Landis says, his voice flat. He looms in the doorway, eyes slowly looking around the lab. For just the briefest second, his lips pinch, especially when he sees their current experiment. Hugo meets his dark eyes, refusing to look away. Landis’ eyes narrow, holding his stare for justlong enough for it to be weird, before he looks back to Varian. Hugo’s stomach boils, the previous joy solidifying into something hard and angry.

“If you’re not too busy,” their unwanted visitor says, “in about half an hour I’ll be meeting King Frederick and Queen Arianna in the garden for tea. I would like to request you come as well.”

Varian stiffens a bit, but he never falters. “Of course,” he says. “I’ll finish up here and meet you soon.”

Landis stands there for another agonizing second. His eyes meet Hugo’s one last time before he smiles, a baring of teeth. The thief’s jaw tenses— any tighter and he’ll crack a tooth— but Landis finally ends their suffering with a nod of his head, taking his leave.

Varian remains tense until the footsteps outside go quiet, a full minute of awkward, strained waiting. Hugo’s stomach is in knots, a flip-flopping feeling fumbling through his guts.

Once they’re finally alone again, Varian lets out a gusty sigh, bodily slumping. Hugo doesn’t look away from the door, his heartbeat so loud in his ears he barely registers anything else. His hands are shaking— why the fuck are his hands shaking—

A small kick, to his shin. Not enough to hurt, just to get his attention. Hugo’s head snaps around, eyes locking with Varian. The other teenager frowns at him, but from the furrow in his brow it’s obviously out of concern. Hugo sucks in a deep breath, trying to ignore the sudden urge to lunge.

Varian looks to the door, biting at his lip, before leaning closer to Hugo. He looks almost… nervous? Maybe not the word for it—something more like unnerved. It’s a new expression for sure, and not a happy one.

“Sun, he’s so weird,” Varian whispers. “Like, he’s weird, right?”

Hugo blinks, the words taking him by surprise, before he begins to snicker. “Oh, absolutely,” he agrees. “I think you’ve got your work cut out for you there, darling.”

Varian kicks him again, this time much harder. It’s definitely going to bruise. “Shut up!” he whines, but the trill of laughter in his voice is unmissable. “No, no you don’t get to laugh— stop, I swear I’ll throw our son at you!”

“Not Seventeen!” Hugo gasps, reaching for the plant and tugging it close. “He’s innocent, leave him alone!”

Varian cackles again, trying to reach for the plant, only to be foiled by Hugo’s long arms. The laughter that follows is almost enough to chase away the hard rock of dread that had settled in Hugo’s stomach. He, just for a bit, almost forgets what waits for them outside that door.

Almost.

#varigo #varian #tangled the series #varian and the seven kingdoms #vat7k #silent opera #fic #AYO LOOK THE CONFLICT SHOWED UP

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