“What do you think of this one, Pascal?” Rapunzel asks, whirling abruptly away from her wardrobe.  The dress she holds by the shoulders flairs spectacularly.

The chameleon gives her a bored look and points to the assortment of previously packed and locked trunks.  She makes a face that Pascal silently refers to as the “untasty bug” face.  Not that he’s ever seen her eat an untasty bug… or a tasty one for that matter, but it corresponds to Pascal’s own “untasty bug” face, and that’s good enough for him!

She grumbles, “You know they only put those stuffy court dresses in there.  I want to take something… simpler with me.”

Hugging the mint green garment to her chest, she glances over her shoulder and into the depths of the armoire again.  “Oh, wait!  This one!”

The chameleon scuttles across the bed as the discarded garment is flung in his general direction.

Giggling, she removes a lavender pink summer dress and, clutching it tightly, pirouettes in front of the looking glass.  “Yes, this one!  It’s Eugene’s favorite, I think,” she confides, grinning.  “Probably because I was wearing it that time when we…”

Pascal braces himself as her expression melts from joy into sadness.  “I’m really going to miss him,” she whispers, picking listlessly at the wrinkles in the skirt with her fingers.  “This is the first time we’ve been apart for more than a day since…”

Overcome with sympathy, Pascal abandons the comfort of the bed, slides down the skirt of the light green dress to the floor, and patters over to Rapunzel.  Sighing, she bends down and stretches out her arm.  He climbs up to her shoulder and looks into the mirror with her.  It still seems so odd to see her without her long, yellow, magical tail.  True, it had been a rather oddly placed tail, but she’d wielded it well.  She must still miss it at times.

Just as these thoughts cross his mind, Rapunzel lifts a hand to the raggedy brown remains of that very appendage and tugs hesitantly on the ends.  “It’s easy to believe I’m… normal when he’s around.”

He ought to smack her for saying such a thing about herself – not normal, indeed! – but he can’t bring himself to do it.  He sighs and snuggles against her neck.

Manner subdued now, Rapunzel turns back to her closet and gently hangs the dress-that-might-be-the-former-thief’s-favorite back up.  Pascal trills questioningly.  She tells him, “It’ll be safer here.  I’ll take the green one.”

She wanders out to the terrace of her private garden and takes a deep breath of evening air.  Just then, Pascal notices first a head, then a pair of shoulders, and then a Flynn Rider tumble silently over the top of the garden wall.  Rolling his eyes, he pokes Rapunzel in the throat and gestures toward the intruder.  Yet again, the castle guards are no match against the determined young man.

Pascal holds on tightly as Rapunzel dashes barefoot along the cobblestone path, ducks beneath a trellis of hanging wisteria, rounds the trunk of a massive willow, and halts at the feet of Eugene Fitzherbert who is balanced on a massive, exposed root.  As usual, the man shuffles over silently, making room.

She sits down with a sigh and leans her shoulder against his.  Pascal obligingly patters over to the opposite one.

“Twenty one days,” she informs Eugene, her voice crumbling softly midway through.

The young man reaches for her hand and cradles it in both of his own larger ones.  “Yeah.”

For a moment it seems as if the impending departure is going to succeed in creating an utterly maudlin mood.  Pascal transfers himself to the tree, climbs above Rapunzel’s head, and flashes colors to get Eugene’s attention.  When the former thief looks up, the chameleon glares.

Eugene clears his throat and visibly rallies.  “But, hey!  You’ll have a great time.  Remember what a nice view there is just past the old mine?  That gorge-of-something-or-other?”

“Oh, Eugene,” she gently reprimands him.  “You know it won’t be the same without you.”

He gives her a cocky smile.  “Oh, I know.  But, still, even without the addition of me, it’s pretty spectacular.”

She laughs.

Eugene glances up at Pascal, who gives him a thumbs up.

“Olga finished packing my shoes for the trip,” she continues.  Her tone would have been offhand except for the hitch in her voice.  Bravely, she soldiers on, forcing a smile, “But Daddy says I don’t have to wear them in the coach.”

“Your father,” Eugene tells her as he rubs his cheek against her hair, “is rather flexible for a monarch.”

She hums out a breathy laugh.

Eugene, on the other hand, looks pained.  Pascal can guess why.   But that matter is for another time.

Rapunzel plays with the young man’s fingertips, tracing them with her own, curling them and uncurling them one by one.

“And you do have him wrapped around your finger,” Eugene summarizes.

Rapunzel shifts slightly closer to her companion.  “I have only him wrapped around my finger?” she dares hesitantly.

Eugene’s hand twists in her grasp.  Pascal watches as the thief’s thumb passes over her knuckles, pausing over her still-bare ring finger… and then he grips her hand properly, lifts it to his lips and presses a kiss to her skin.   “No.  Not only the king.  You also have a thief, for what it’s worth.”

“He’s worth quite a lot,” she assures him.

He tilts his chin to the side in doubt.  She doesn’t give him the chance to disagree.  Pascal busies himself with an intent survey of the drooping foliage for an agonizingly long minute.  He pretends that the soft, wet sound of lips finally parting from each other is something else.  Like a lizard belly-flopping into a bog.

“I’m going to really miss you,” Rapunzel announces softly, curling against his chest.

“Hey, hey,” he comforts her, rubbing her arm as if she is in need of the warmth.  “You’ll be so busy you won’t even have time to miss me.”  He leans back and tilts her chin up so that he can examine her expression.  “Which is rather unfair, honestly, as I’ll be missing you dreadfully.  You’ll have to make it up to me after you get back.”

Once again, her soft, startled laughter mingles with the breeze.  “I will.  I promise.”

“I know.”  Eugene’s expression twists and, for the first time, Pascal truly wishes he weren’t supervising their rendezvous.  The chameleon knows that look; he’s seen it with increasing frequency over the last three years.  He lifts his fore-claws from the tree, gestures frantically for the man not to attempt the question he’s about to ask.

“Eugene?  Are you all right?”  Rapunzel presses a hand to his suddenly sweaty forehead.

Smiling thinly, her companion takes a deep breath, collects both of her hands in his own and intones solemnly, “Rapunzel, I know I’m just… me and you’re a princess, but would you…?”

Pascal refrains from covering his eyes... somehow.  Eugene is no longer just sweating.  His breathing is shallow and rapid; his face is pale; his eyes are feverishly bright; his left eye twitches.

“Would I what?” Rapunzel prompts, traces of apprehension sneaking into her tone.

“Would you… you…”

Now Pascal slaps both front appendages over his eyes.  He can’t bear to watch.

“Eugene, you’re scaring me.”

The young man takes a deep breath and lets it out.  If not for Rapunzel’s presence, Pascal is sure there would have been several colorful curse words in there somewhere.

“Would you please not lean out the carriage window when you go past that gorge?”

She laughs.  Her voice is sharp with relief.  “Of course!  I’ll be careful.”

“And you’ll remember to keep your knife with you?”

“I already have it ready for the trip tomorrow." 

Pascal peeks just in time to see Rapunzel pull up her skirt to show off the weapon’s rather provocative hiding place, strapped high on her bare thigh.  Eugene gulps.  Visibly.

“Ah.  Good.  Great.  Erm…”

“I’ll be fine,” she asserts, dropping the hem of her skirt.  “And you’ll be so busy helping Momma plan my birthday party that you won’t even notice I’m gone.”

“I’ll notice,” he argues and then, rather uncharacteristically, Eugene initiates a kiss.  He leans toward her as their mouths move against one another with a hunger that makes Pascal blush right past crimson and into vermilion.

Rapunzel leans away first, her hands patting his cheeks softly in reassurance.   “I love you, Eugene.”

“I love you, too,” he rasps.  “So much.”

Those last two words surprise Pascal.  He has never heard them before from Eugene Fitzherbert.  Neither has Rapunzel if her shocked silence is any indication.  Before she can reply, he presses a chaste kiss to her forehead, glances up in search for Pascal and – finding him – leans back.

“It’s getting a little cool out here for chaperoning frogs and barefoot princesses,” he remarks, holding out his hand for the chameleon.

Pascal plays along, shivering and turning a dramatic ice blue.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” Eugene says with finality, helping her stand.

“I won’t leave without a proper goodbye,” she swears.

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.  “Proper, huh?”  Pascal catches his eye and deftly shakes his head.  Eugene clears his throat and drops his arm.  “Right.  I’ll work on that.  Good night, Blondie.”

“Good night, Eugene.”

Chapter 2