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Eugene Fitzherbert didn’t know who he was.
That was fine. For a while, he didn’t need to. Flynn Rider didn’t have a home. He didn’t celebrate holidays. He didn’t have a family. Maybe that was sad. He didn’t really think so- after all, how could he mourn what he never had?
Sometimes, loneliness would twist his stomach into knots. Walking from town to town, seeing how parents would raise their children, the cultural dresses, the holidays and the food. They had something that he didn’t. But then he’d roll his shoulders back, and take a casual stroll, and he’d be fine. After all, why be sad when you can into a market empty handed, and walk out with your pockets filled with delicious, homebaked goods.
His identity crisis started when he met Rapunzel.
Suddenly, his nickname, his entire persona felt like that- a persona. Suddenly, that mask that he was wearing felt tight and constricting, instead of safe. For the first time in his life, he looked at someone and wanted them to know his life story. He wanted her to know Eugene Fitzherbert, not Flynn Rider.
So he told her.
And she fell in love with Eugene Fitzherbert. Not Flynn Rider.
Slowly, Flynn melted away. He’d found a new life, a new identity. He liked the new him a whole lot better.
Pieces began to slot into place- his personality, his real one- one he didn’t need to craft began to bleed through in his interactions with people. Suddenly, talking wasn’t a chore anymore. He did it because it made him feel good.
Something was still missing.
Something that would change everything.
Eugene Fitzherbert couldn’t mourn what he never had, but Prince Horace of the Dark Kingdom could.
He had a home.
He had a people.
He had a culture, a language, he had a family.
Suddenly, a single dot in a family tree was the end of a massive, interconnected web of stories, lives, and histories that Eugene would never get to learn.
It was a lot to take in.
He didn’t really have time to process everything before Cassandra was ripping the floor out from under them, destroying her own life and theirs in the process.
Family history could wait. She betrayed his girlfriend. The ice queen was going down.
He couldn’t wait forever. Eventually, Eugene was going to get curious.
It started with Rapunzel baking like she always was. She was glancing back and forth between an old, dilapidated recipe book and her bowl, her grin so wide, he was shocked her mouth hadn’t fallen off yet.
He smiled warmly at her, just watching her skip around the kitchen before he lightly knocked on the doorframe.
She turned on her heels, bowl still in her hand and grinned at him.
“That’s new,” he said, nodding at her cookbook. She bit her lip, excitedly, grabbing his hand.
“It was my grandma’s! Mom gave it to me Eugene! Look! It’s full of old family recipes!” she squealed, grabbing the book and handing it to him. Eugene couldn’t hope to suppress a smile as he felt the pure raw excitement dripping from her words.
“I never even thought about asking about our family,” she sighed. “I was too caught up worrying about having parents,”
Eugene snorted.
“And those parents being a king and a queen.”
Rapunzel huffed a small laugh.
“Yeah, that too.”
“So, what are you making, Sunshine?”
Rapunzel’s face lit up as she snatched the book back. She flipped a couple pages and pointed to a recipe.
Zwetschgenknoedel.
“I don’t know how to pronounce it,” she admitted. “I was hoping to get my mom to tell me after I make these for her!”
“Those look scrumptious, can I have some?”
“That depends. Are you going to help?”
Eugene groaned playfully but still walked over to the sink to wash his hands. Rapunzel squealed, dipping her spoon back into the mixture.
Eugene chewed his lip as he helped her make the dough.
Questions he’d never thought to ask swirled around his brain. He let them slip away as he watched Rapunzel smile.
The next time he thought about it, he was in the library. He’d been grabbing something for the kid when a book caught his eye.
The Legacy of the Dark Kingdom
He narrowed his eyes and pulled it out. It was heavy and covered with dust. He blew on it, coughing as dust flew up, stinging his eyes. He looked up at the clock.
Varian would survive if he took an extra 10 minutes.
He cracked open the cover, and his eyes widened at the first page. It was a photo of an old painting of a street market. It was bright and colorful. The painting was full of details, he could make out the curves of everyone's faces. So much caught his eye. He didn’t know where to begin.
The women were adorned with beautiful dresses- the stitching and the style weren’t something he was familiar with- he’d never seen fashion like this, which only made him more curious. Some things the men wore were a bit more familiar. He pursed his lips trying to place where he’d seen garments like this before.
His eyes widened just a little as he thought about his dad.
Stars, his dad.
He’d never even considered asking Edmund about the dark kingdom. He hadn’t really considered asking Edmund anything, really. He might be his dad but there was still a lot the two of them had to work out.
There was a lot of resentment he was terrified would come bubbling to the surface if he tried to have a proper conversation with him.
He turned the page and was met with a photo of the Dark Kingdom that he knew. A shell of a castle, covered with black rocks. A tomb, more than a home. When Eugene Fitzherbert thought about the Dark Kingdom, that was the only image he could invoke. It was the only thing he could talk about- he knew nothing about his people. He did know about loss.
He couldn’t tell you what he had lost. Just that he had.
He thought about the moonstone and blinked back tears as his face grew hot. Before he’d learnt about Edmund- before he’d absorbed the truth, he felt a natural sort of fear of it. He felt a cautious, sympathetic sadness as he slowly learned more about what it had done.
Now? Now he understood how personal it was. He understood why thinking about it made his insides tremble, and his teeth clack. He understood why the thought of those rocks made him want to scream.
All of that fear, all of that anguish was never taught to him. He was born with it. It was passed down from father to son. He was sure if Rapunzel and he were ever to have a child, they would feel it too. It was how they survived.
He turned the page and looked up at the clock. He blanched as he realized 15 minutes had passed.
Varian was going to kill him.
5 days later, Eugene was picking up a small book.
Lost Languages, the cover read.
Writing he recognized from the walls of the Dark Kingdom’s castle covered the cover. The title was almost poetic.
He opened the cover, and walked down the hall, mumbling to himself as he read.
“Baruch atah,”
He shook his head, looking down at the paper.
“Ba- baruch.”
He shook his head again.
“Ba ruch ,”
Sun, how do people learn languages anyway?
He knew people were giving him weird looks as he walked down the hall, but he didn’t pay them any mind, too focused on trying to get his tongue to follow the words on the paper.
“Adonai,” he said a bit more confidently and smiled before he ran headfirst into a wall.
“Eugene,” Rapunzel exclaimed, running over to pick up his book as he rubbed his head awkwardly.
“Ow, thanks, Sunshine,” he grumbled, taking his book back from her.
“Are you OK? Do you need me to take you to the infirmary?” she asked softly. Eugene shook his head.
“Oh, don't worry about it. If a blow to the head was going to take me out, it would have already done it by now,” he grinned. She snorted.
“What were you reading?” she asked, peeking over his shoulder to see the cover. Eugene flinched, pulling the book closer to his chest, his face hot with embarrassment. She pulled back slightly. Eugene chewed his lip guiltily as he saw her face fall a little bit.
“It’s- a language book,” he explained, holding it out to her.
“Are you learning a new language?” she asked.
“Ah, sort of?” he winced. “It’s hard to explain.”
She nodded, her fingers lightly touching the book’s cover. She lit up.
“If you’re having trouble, you could always ask Varian for help. He’s good at languages.”
Eugene let out a small puff of air.
“You’re right, Sunshine. Maybe I will.”
He could not ask Varian for help.
Couldn’t was an exaggeration. He absolutely could, he just wasn’t going to.
Rapunzel was right- he was probably the best person in Corona to help. The kid had translated the Demanitus code completely on his own. Helping Eugene learn a half-dead language was child’s play.
But there was something so mind-numbingly awkward about asking Varian of all people. Varian, Quirin’s son. Varian, aka the only other descendent of the dark kingdom that he knew.
Neither of them had talked about it- he knew Quirin had talked to Varian about it a little from some of the rambled stories that Varian would tell him, half distracted as he worked on a reaction with Eugene in the corner. But neither of them had properly talked about what that kingdom meant to them.
He had no idea what Varian felt about the Dark Kingdom- what he thought about the culture, the food, the people, and the loss. It wasn’t a discussion he felt equipped to talk about.
Frankly, who in the 7 hells was he to be the one to try and learn this language? He’d just learnt about it. Varian practically grew up around it- even if Quirin was tight-lipped about where his customs had come from.
So, Eugene struggled in silence. He made himself hack up a lung once or twice trying to recreate the sound he’d heard his dad make when he was speaking their language. He didn’t really know how to get his tongue to move like that. Even when it sounded right, he knew he was doing it wrong, but it was the best he could do.
He sat at the table, taking a long sip from his lemonade as he mumbled not quite foreign words under his breath. It was getting late. He should be getting to bed, but he wasn’t ready to give up quite yet.
“Kutzpah,” he murmured, shaking his head. "Kutzpah."
He groaned, frustrated, preparing to try again when suddenly a voice came from behind him.
“It’s ‘Chutzpah,’”
Eugene let out a very manly scream, thank you very much, and his book and his lemonade both went flying as his hands flailed to recover from the panic.
The voice squeaked as the book flew towards it, and Eugene spun around to see Varian, standing with his hands held protectively in front of his face. The book lay open at Varian’s feet, and Eugene’s face was flushed red with embarrassment.
“Kid! You scared the living daylights out of me, what were you thinking?” he grumbled with no venom in his glare.
“Sorry,” Varian chuckled. “Just- it’s chutzpah.”
Eugene paused. Varian looked down at the book and picked it up, handing it back to him. Varian suddenly felt incredibly awkward.
“Sorry, you were probably busy. I’ll- I’m going to go-” Varian began, twisting on his heels.
“Kid, wait,” Eugene said, holding out his hand. Varian turned back around, looking hopefully over at Eugene. He scooted his chair to the side.
“Could- you’re good at languages, right?”
Varian’s eyes lit up. He practically sprinted over to the table, jumping into a chair so quickly it began to rock on its legs.
He leaned over the table, and Eugene could practically feel the excitement radiating off of him as he looked at the cover. It was an excitement that was as palpable as the excitement he could feel watching Rapunzel cook that dish she still had no idea how to pronounce.
Eugene opened the book to the page he was on, and Varian smiled fondly.
“Ok kid, so how do you make that noise?” he asked, resting his elbows on the table.
“Chutzpah?”
“Yeah, that. How do you do the-” he paused, trying to think of how to describe what he heard. “The that thing .”
Despite his terrible explanation, Varian still nodded in understanding.
“You have to use your uvula,” he began. He stopped as Eugene’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion- he was already helplessly and completely lost. “Look, try snoring first.”
“Snoring? Kid you’ve lost me.”
“You’re using the same part of your mouth. Just-”
Eugene shrugged, looking at Varian, and letting out the most obnoxious snore he possibly could. Varian snickered, turning and staring Eugene down as he let out another, even more, obnoxious snore.
The two of them giggled like they were 5 years old, snorting as tears were rolling down their faces.
“Look, OK,” Varian said between giggles. “You feel that in the back of your throat when you snore?”
Eugene nodded, snorting too much to be able to speak.
“Try and get the sound there. It’s sort of like you’re clearing your throat.”
Eugene sniffed, wiping a tear from his eye as he nodded.
“Alright, kid, lay it on me.”
“Chutzpah,” Varian said, emphasizing that dreaded, guttural sound that Eugene’s throat seemed immune to making.
“Kutzpah.”
“Chutzpah,” Varian said, more drawn out.
“Kutzpah.”
“Chutzpah.”
“Kutzpah.”
They went back and forth a little bit more before finally, Eugene opened his mouth, and:
“Chutzpah.”
Varian’s eyes practically glowed as he vibrated with excitement. Eugene wasn’t sure whether he wanted to laugh or cry.
“Chutzpah, chutzpah, chutzpah,” he beamed.
Varian grinned at him.
“I’m proud of you, Gene,” he smiled tiredly, leaning into Eugene’s shoulder. Eugene let out a small tired sigh, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and pulling him into his chest.
“You’re a good teacher, Goggles.”
Varian snorted happily, his eyes drifting closed as his head lolled. Eugene smiled at him, and rested his head on top of Varian’s.
The next morning, Rapunzel woke up early to grab a bite before her meeting and found the two of them, still out cold at the table. She smiled fondly and closed the door quietly behind her.
3 days later, Eugene practically ripped the door off its hinges as he burst into Varian’s lab.
“Varian?! Where's the fire?!” he wheezed, holding his stomach as he gasped for air.
Varian turned around, completely and totally confused.
“Am I- yes? What’s wrong?”
Eugene blinked in confusion, taking a second to take one more large breath.
“Stan said you needed me here urgently. Kid, I thought there was a fire, you can’t mess with me like that.”
Varian paused before he laughed. The bastard.
“No fire,” he said between snorts. “I just needed your help.”
Eugene sighed before he leaned against the wall.
“What’s up, Goggles?”
“I’m trying to make something for Rapunzel’s potluck,” he explained. Eugene eyed him suspiciously.
“And you want my help? Kid the cookies I made for that thing are practically charcoal.”
Varian worried his bottom lip. The expression on his face was small and vulnerable. It made Eugene stand up straight and shut his mouth.
“Yes, you. It’s- it’s my dad’s recipe, and I was hoping- if you weren’t too busy that is- if you wanted to learn- or-” Varian stammered.
Eugene’s eyes widened in understanding. His face softened into a small smile.
“Alright Goggles, what’re we making?” he asked, trying to keep his excitement under control.
“Matzo ball soup. Have you ever had it?”
Eugene shook his head.
“You're going to love it!” Varian practically squealed, pulling his hand towards the ingredients he had set out on the table.
Sure, maybe Eugene Fitzherbert was a disaster in the kitchen. Maybe he accidentally splashed himself with boiling water once or twice, and maybe he ruined the water they were trying to boil by not checking the salt bottle before he dumped it over the top. The lid fell into the pot with a loud clunk, as its entire contents poured in.
Those failures made their final product even sweeter. Varian was right- Eugene loved it. Varian had to snatch the bowl away from him before he ate it all.
Eugene knew why Varian asked him for help, and it wasn't just because he thought Eugene would like the food. He couldn’t help but think about how happy he was that he had Varian back in his life.
He also couldn’t help but think about how he should have asked the kid for help sooner.
“Kid, I have to ask," Eugene said, watching as Varian packed their soup into a container to bring upstairs. "If you wanted to share our culture with me so badly, why’d you wait so long?”
“It felt awkward. I wasn’t sure how to bring it up,” Varian admitted.
He barked out a loud laugh at that.
They were oh-so similar. Even if they weren’t practically cousins, anyone could tell they were brothers.
Suddenly, Eugene Fitzherbert had someone who understood. Someone who knew about those distant feelings of pain and loss. Someone who felt that terror that had ingrained itself into their DNA, a mark both of survival and of grief.
Someone who understood how abnormal it felt to be an outsider to your own culture. Varian may have been raised around it, but Eugene hadn’t considered how little Quirin had told him.
Eugene Fitzherbert had found someone else who didn't quite know who they were. They would find out together.