Keeping Eugene awake is a full-time task.  Pascal frowns as the now-familiar vibration of Eugene’s snoring jiggles his belly.  He glares at Rapunzel’s thief.  Ridiculous.  How hard is it to mumble a “yes, absolutely!” or a “perhaps not…”?  A lizard could do this job.  A former thief, however, cannot.   Fortunately, the queen is far too engrossed in sampling the elaborately presented soup to notice that her decorator’s assistant has fallen asleep.  

Again.

Pascal slips out from his collar and scurries to the slumbering man’s shoulder.  He briefly debates tongue-added, projectile poking of the inner ear, but as entertaining as it would be to hear the man squeal like a little human girl, it would be far too conspicuous.  The queen would have to notice.   With a put-upon sigh, Pascal gives Eugene’s ear a not-so-subtle (and not-nearly-as-satisfying) pinch with his tiny fingers.  That will teach him!  

The technique achieves the desired result: Eugene jerks awake.  Before Pascal can enjoy his victory (though pale in comparison to wake-up strategies that end with unmanly squeals), he finds himself shrugged off Eugene’s shoulder and in a disjointed pile of legs and tail on the stone floor.

Sorting himself out, Pascal sticks his tongue out at the suddenly-alert, rapidly blinking, two-legged companion-to-the-princess.  Considering all the times he’s been knocked off the man unintentionally this week, Pascal is beginning to get suspicious…  Well, that’ll be the last time he wakes up Eugene, snoring-in-the-midst-of-a-royal-decision-making-type-event or no!

Eugene surveys the morning room for the queen.  Finding her considering something other than him (and his lapse of consciousness), he forces a to-happy grin and blurts hastily, “I think purple lilacs in the centerpieces sounds great, your Grace!”

The chameleon colors slightly in embarrassment.  They had discussed floral arrangements a while ago!  He suppresses a sigh and then gathers his mettle.  He’d better get on with saving Eugene from being an idiot.  Rapunzel had made him promise to watch over the putz until she got back.   Presumably, irritating or disappointing the queen by breaking his own promise qualifies as one of the things to be prevented or avoided at all costs.

Before Eugene can say anything else that will prove to the queen that he has not been paying attention, Pascal hastens up the back of the queen’s chair (where he is hidden from view by all but Eugene) and starts gesturing to the nonplussed man before him.   Pascal stands on his back legs and rubs his stomach slowly.

Eugene narrows his eyes and slowly shakes his head as he clearly tries to puzzle out the pantomiming.

“You’re hungry...”  It is almost, but not quite, a question.

Gah!  Why is Rapunzel the only two-legged creature in this stony forest of stuff who understands Lizard Squeak?!

Pascal shakes his head and tries again.  This time he gestures (with deliberate motions!) holding an imaginary fly and putting it into his mouth.  He pretends to chomp down on the invisible insect as he has seen people do with their dinner rolls.

“The menu!”

Pascal winces at the too loud answer.

Eugene clears his throat.  “Of course, we were discussing the menu,” he continues in a more normal voice.  “But I just wanted to point out that your choice of centerpiece design is really… striking, your Majesty.”

The queen looks up and smiles warmly.  “Thank you, Eugene.  I’m glad you finally approve.”

Pascal joins Eugene in shifting nervously.  Apparently, his efforts hadn’t managed to conceal the form thief’s sudden nap as effectively as he’d thought…

Eugene, however, blunders through the awkward moment.  “I see that you are sampling the soup Chef Gusto brought in.”  He glances at Pascal, his brows drawn together with irritation.  “I don’t suppose he’s used any… unusual ingredients?”

Pascal glares back.  Fine!  The pompous, proposal-botching puffball can muck his way through his own meetings!  With a squeaky “humph!” the lizard cross his arms and turns his back on Eugene.

The queen, clearly impressed by Eugene’s sudden interest, turns her attention to the chef and translates the question into the man’s native language.  Eugene takes the opportunity to try to catch Pascal’s eye.  After a bit of urgent gesturing, some gritted teeth and an apologetic look, the lizard relents.

“Sorry,” the thief mouths in silence.  Reluctantly, Pascal nods.

Eugene lets out a sigh of relief but then snaps to attention as the queen turns back around to report on the ingredients.  Of which there are many.

This time, there’s nothing Pascal can do to keep the man’s eyes from glazing over.  The queen can’t not notice, the lizard realizes.

She pauses in her description of the soup’s contents, considers Eugene’s bleary gaze and gives him a kind smile.  “Perhaps we should wait to make such decisions until we are more refreshed,” the queen says graciously.  “We can continue discussing the menu tomorrow morning.”

A little wrinkle between Eugene’s eyes appears.  The man obviously does not like the idea of another day spent discussing all the details that go into planning the party.  Neither does Pascal!  But he has come to realize that humans have a way of making the most fun things in life (like birthday parties) the most complicated.  It is an unavoidable flaw of the species.  That and the lack of any tail to speak of.

“That sounds—”

Pascal gestures wildly to make sure nothing – like Eugene’s true feeling on the subject – tumble out of his mouth.

Eugene returns the silent prompt below the edge of the table and out of sight of the queen.  And the gesture is far ruder than Pascal’s had been!  “...wonderful, your Grace.”

At that precise moment – before Pascal can gesture rather colorfully back at the man! – the scene is interrupted by the entrance of a footman.  “Your Highness,” he says, bowing lowly, “Lord Rein from Trist is here to see you on behalf of his sovereign.”

She straightens her shoulders with inexplicable enthusiasm, causing Pascal to take several cautious steps back.  “And the reason for his unexpected visit?”

Pascal shares a frown with Eugene at the hopeful note in her tone.  Eugene’s expression is not confused, like Pascal’s, however.  It is irritated.

“He says he brings a message of fortuitous news.”

Looking both pleased and resolute, she lays her napkin on the table beside the soup tray.  “Very well.  Please escort our guest to the throne room.  I will speak to him there.”  She stands up, blocking Pascal’s view of a rather unhappily bewildered looking Eugene.  “We will continue this discussion tomorrow, Mr. Fitzherbert.”

Pascal climbs down the chair and ambles to Eugene’s waiting foot.  

“Can’t wait,” he says dryly. Pascal gives him a nudge to his ankle before scaling the nearest pant leg.  

Eugene doesn’t move until the queen is out of sight.  He then turns to Pascal, who is now perched on his left shoulder.  “I don’t know about you, Buddy, but my bet on this ‘fortuitous news’ business has something to do with our blondie, a frying pan, and a big fat trade agreement.”

Pascal gives him a dubious look.

“Hey, it could happen!  I’m the one who showed her how to use it, after all.”

True, but…

“Yeah,” Eugene agrees, following the lizard’s pointed gaze which is trained on the door.  “I’d rather hear it for myself.”

Pascal nods eagerly.

He holds on to Eugene’s collar as the former thief makes his way through the castle.  The throne room is just around the corner ahead and Pascal anticipates the change in direction… but then finds himself traveling away from the throne room rather than toward it!

He squeaks urgently in the man’s ear.  Eugene flinches and shushes him.  “Mute your squeaker, frog.  Trust me.”

Pascal can do nothing except clutch the man’s collar and hang on as Eugene steps out of a hall window and begins to scale the walls in such a way that would undoubtedly make Pascal’s lizard brethren proud.  When they reach the top of the wall and onto the roof, Eugene holds out his hand for Pascal to climb on and sets him down on the tiles.

Eugene grabs the edge of one of the massive roofing tiles.  There is a grunt and a tug and then a complaint (“This would be easier… Stabbington biceps…!”) and then...  Then, Pascal watches in amazement as the man levers up a loose tile, creating a hole in the castle’s very roof!

Pascal crosses his arms.  How is it Eugene knows about this?

The man holds up his hands in prideful recognition.  “It’s a little Flynn Rider trick.  But look,” he says, nodding towards the hole, “We’ve got a great view.”

Pascal creeps toward the edge and, together, they watch as an older man enters the throne room below.  The queen is already seated on the royal throne and Pascal still cannot figure out why she seems to be so thrilled.  The visitor looks rather boring, Pascal decides, though he does like the pointed ears on the man.  He gives Eugene’s round, boring ears a frown before noticing the stupefied look on Eugene’s face.  Before Pascal can let out a questioning squeak, the queen begins to speak.

“Lord Rein, your presence is a surprise,” she greets with a smile.

“A pleasant one, I hope.”   He reaches over and takes her hand, kissing it gently.

Pascal colors slightly.  Eugene harrumphs.  “Think he’s laying it on a little thick?” he whispers.

Pascal pretends to gag.

“My thoughts exactly.”

The queen pulls back her hand.  “You have brought news ?”

“Yes.  I have been sent here by Prince Banale and Princess Rapunzel--”

Pascal freezes at the mention of his best friend’s name.  He notices Eugene doing the same thing.

“—to deliver a wonderful announcement.  Princess Rapunzel has accepted his hand in marriage.”

Pascal staggers forward at the declaration.  Eugene grabs him just in time before he falls through the opening.  Pascal may be tempted to stab the idiot in the ear sometimes, but even he knows full well that Rapunzel would never agree to marry anyone except for Eugene!  (Provided the man ever manages to ask her!)

“She... did?” the queen asks, her voice an odd mix of shock, confusion, and delight.  Pascal doesn’t like the delight.  And if Eugene’s scowl is anything to go by, he doesn’t care for it much, either.

“My lord – Prince Banale – met his royal highness – the king of Corona – and the princess as they were conducting the royal tour outside of Solstberg.  The king himself invited the prince accompany them.  Apparently, the princess was most charmed by him.”

Pascal frowns.  Rapunzel is most definitely not one to be charmed.

“The king and happy couple requested that we escort you to their majesties’ realm of Solstberg immediately.  They would be most disappointed if you were to miss any part of the celebration,” the lord concludes.

To her credit, the queen pauses for a moment.  “The princess did not instruct for anyone else from Corona to join the event?”

The older man hesitates slightly.  His brows furrow.  “I don’t believe so.  Why does your Majesty ask?”

Eugene shoots a disbelieving look at Pascal.  “Because even if Blondie were getting married – which I don’t believe for a minute that she is! – she’d want us there!” Eugene hisses angrily. 

Pascal wholeheartedly agrees.  They are her best friends!  Rapunzel would never expect either of them to stay behind in the castle at a time like this!

“My daughter…” the queen begins, glancing away from the messenger toward the throne room doors.  Her expression is a thoughtful one, but whatever misgivings she feels at the moment a quickly pushed aside.  Returning her attention to Lord Rein, the queen shakes her head, sighing.  “Forgive me.  Clearly, I have misjudged many things about my daughter.”

“Not until this moment, you haven’t,” Eugene grits out.  Pascal concurs with a grunt.

In the throne room below, the queen stands.  “Thank you for delivering this message, Lord Rein.  It is indeed very happy news.  I will make my preparations and be ready to accompany you shortly.”

The visitor bows extravagantly before taking his leave.  Before the doors have closed behind him, the queen has already gestured for several of her attendants to come forward.  The whispered instructions echo like stray breezes, but neither Pascal nor Eugene struggle to make out the words.  Pascal is furiously confused and Eugene looks ready for war.  Eugene scoops Pascal up and places him on his shoulder.  “Come on, we’ve got to talk to the queen.  I don’t know who that guy thought he was talking about, but it certainly wasn’t Rapunzel.  Something is definitely not right.  And, if that messenger was who I think it is…”  Pascal’s curiosity flares as Eugene scowls darkly.  “Things are about to get real interesting.”

Forgetting that Eugene’s thief brain doesn’t know the first peep of Lizard Squeak, Pascal begins trilling his questions, one after another, in a long rush. 

“Shut it,” Eugene says not unkindly.  “I’ll tell you later.  For now, we’ve got to figure out a way to keep our fingers in the pie.”

Pascal considers arguing that the only thing that comes from such an activity is a sticky appendage but Eugene is already on the move.  Unfortunately, Eugene isn’t as proficient at climbing down sheer walls as he is climbing up them.  He grumbles under his breath about not being part-chameleon.  Pascal inspires him by giving him an encouraging squeak in his ear.  If they don’t hurry, they will miss the queen!

“I’m going as fast as I can,” he grits as his hold on the smooth stone nearly slips.

Finally, they make it to the ground.  Pascal holds on to the man’s collar tightly as Eugene races towards the main entrance of the castle.  Eugene barely has time to catch his breath when he sees the queen enter the room.  Unfortunately, she isn’t alone.  Eugene hesitates but Pascal gives him a nudge.

Taking a decisive breath and nodding in recognition of the encouragement, he purposefully intrudes upon the assembly.  “Your Majesty, if I might have a word in private...”

The queen considers his expression, her own revealing a measure of surprise that he seems to know precisely what had been said.  And then her lips curve upward in a sympathetic smile.  Nodding to the foreign lord and the three unfamiliar guards accompanying him, she murmurs, “If you would please give us a moment…”

The visitors are surprised by the request but do not protest.  The lord, however, gives Eugene a thorough once over.  This time there is no mistaking the tension in Eugene’s shoulders as he regards the man in front of them.  “Of course, your Majesty.”

Pascal refrains from making a face at the strangers as they move toward the courtyard, but he does turn around and give them the Eye of the Chameleon.

The queen glides, Eugene stomps and Pascal rides into the nearest, semi-private sitting room.  As soon as the door closes, the accusations start.  “There’s no way he’s telling the truth.”

Pascal drops his jaw in disbelief.  This isn’t how the queen should be spoken to, even a chameleon knows that!  Eugene is going to aggravate her and then it won’t matter what he says!

The queen, however, does not seem bothered by his blatant statement.  “We have shared a peaceful alliance with the people of Trist for many generations.  They are above reproach.”

Eugene crosses his arms.  “But, your Majesty, we both know how dear her friends are to her.  She’d rather die than…!  That is, she…”  Eugene pauses, no doubt bites back several choice words whose utterance would get him locked up in the jail, takes a deep breath and says with admirable restraint, “Don’t you think it’s a little weird that Rap—the princess didn’t ask for Pascal to come with you?” he asks.  “Especially to an event like this?”

The easy smile falters slightly, but it quickly returns.  “Perhaps she does not want to startle the young prince with Pascal.  Not everyone is as friendly to chameleons as my daughter and you.”

“Rapunzel wouldn’t care,” he insists.  “Pascal is her friend.  Her first friend.  She wouldn’t tolerate—!”

“Mister Fitzherbert,” the queen very deliberately interjects.  “Is this about her lack of thought toward Pascal, or toward yourself?”

“Leave me out of this,” he chokes out.  Pascal clutches the edge of Eugene’s doublet as the man’s hands fist.  “I’m talking about something that is clearly out of character for Rapunzel.”

“People change when they fall in love.”

Eugene closes his eyes and breathes out a sigh.  “I know.”  Opening his eyes again, he says, “And I know you want this for your daughter.  I don’t doubt he’s a better man than me – richer, more educated, an able leader – but when have you ever seen your daughter be swayed by charm?”

“Perhaps she wasn’t.”  The queen reaches out and gives Eugene a pat on the shoulder.  “Perhaps she has… grown up.”

Eugene has no reply to that.

“Will you be accepting of that?  She would want her friends to support her, even if her path now diverges from yours.”

Through clenched teeth, Eugene growls, “She would still want us there.  With her.  And there’s no reason for that lord guy to leave off bits of her message.  No good reason.”

The queen shakes her head with regret.  “What can I say that you accept?”

Pascal sighs with defeat.  Nothing.  There is nothing the queen can say.  They’ve reached a stalemate.

“I appreciate your concern for my daughter,” the queen continues, “but I must be on my way.”

Eugene licks his lips nervously as it becomes clear that the queen is about to leave.  “He was going to be the buyer of Rapunzel’s crown!”  The accusation seems to bounce around the room, from polished marble wall to polished marble wall, once… twice… three times before it is captured and finally muffled by the tapestries.

The queen stops, stiffens, and turns back to him.  “That is a very serious charge, Mr. Fitzherbert.  On what do you base your accusation?”

In a rush, he confesses on a (thankfully!) prudent whisper, “The man who came to me and my former associates had pointed ears just like that lord—”

“Mr. Fitzherbert,” she interrupts quietly, “there are entire countries of people with such characteristics.  Take the kingdom of Hyrule as an example.  Is there any other proof that this is the man who approached you?”

Pascal can see the pulse racing under Eugene’s skin.  He is beyond upset; he is livid. “I know my clients, your Highness.   Every good thief must… in order to track them down and exact payment for services rendered.”  With a twist of his lips that is more a grimace than a smile, he says, “You’d be surprised how many people think they can cheat a thief.”

The queen doesn’t appear to be upset by the implications of Eugene’s confession.  Her expression becomes sympathetic once more.  She reaches out and touches Eugene’s arm gently.  “I know this announcement is difficult to accept, but I hope you can look past your feelings and be happy for Rapunzel.”

“This isn’t about jealousy, your Majesty.  Look,” he tries again – one last time! – his voice strained with desperation, “at least take a few members of your staff with you.  One or two members of the guard.  They can’t object—!"

“At such blatant distrust between allies?”  She gently refuses, “I have been assured that I will be well-protected on my journey and I have already accepted.  I have no doubts and neither should you.”

“I do.  When it comes to the people I care about acting oddly and doing what seem to be taking stupidly risky chances, I do.  Rapunzel isn’t the only member of the royal family that I care about, your Majesty.  You can’t trust that man.”

It is clear that she doesn’t believe him.  “I should not make our guests wait any longer.”  She lets her hand drop to her side.  “Do not worry, Eugene, we will always remember the role you played in reuniting out family.”

She offers a quick smile to Pascal and leaves the two frustrated males standing in the empty room.

Eugene stands still for so long listening to the sounds of departure that Pascal has more than enough time to crawl down from his perch and move to the table.  

“Despite what she says, something’s not right here.”

Pascal nods.

Eugene suddenly finds the impetus to move, storming over to the window and back again, pacing aimlessly and furiously.  “I mean, if my smolder didn’t work on Rapunzel, than no one can charm her.  And that’s a fact!”

Pascal rolls his eyes.

“This doesn’t add up,” he observes, ignoring the lizard’s contribution.  “I don’t like this.  My gut doesn’t like this."  Eugene’s gut doesn’t like many things, insects included (as Pascal had discovered after a particularly thoughtful gesture of breaking beetles together). 

Eugene doesn’t wait for more than two lizard blinks before he resumes his pacing.  “This is my fault.  I screwed up.  I should have asked her to marry me before she left.”

Pascal can only shrug.  Really, what else is there to say at this point?  

With a blustery sigh and a muttered oath, Eugene rounds on the chameleon once more.  “Well, I’m not giving up.”  He runs his hand through his hair before kneeling by the table and addressing Pascal solemnly.  “Rapunzel isn’t hitched yet.  There’s nothing to say she won’t change her mind.  I just have to ask her.  So how about another road trip?  I hear Weinburg is stunning this time of year.”

He holds out a hand for Pascal to climb on.  Before the lizard can settle himself safely under the shirt collar, Eugene is racing towards the stables.  

When they get there, however, they pass empty stall after empty stall until, faced with the very last one, Eugene skids to a halt and curses.  There are no other animals to ride except the royal stables’ most stubborn ass.

Pascal stares with hopeless defeat at the creature in the stall.  There will be no listening to reason – from human or chameleon – with this old donkey.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Eugene announces in askance.

The temperamental donkey brays in response.   Not a good sign.  But Eugene squares his shoulders, swallows his pride and says, “Look, this is an emergency.  You know I wouldn’t be asking otherwise.  So, please, take us to Trist.  Just as far as Solstberg.  Please.”

If Pascal were a beast of burden, he would have given in – hands down, no contest – to that look of abject sorrow.  The creature in the stall, however, merely lifts its tail and passes gas.  Loudly.

With a gagging breath, Eugene concedes defeat.  He places Pascal on the post closest to the beast and, eyes watering, gestures toward the donkey.  “Maybe you—“  Cough.  “—can try reasoning—“  Muttered oath and an observation of the impressively aromatic qualities of donkeys.  “—with him.”

Pinching his nostrils closed with his reptilian fingers, Pascal shakes his head.

“For Rapunzel.”

The lizard sighs.  There is no way he can refuse that request.  He’d do anything for his best friend and Eugene, the sneaky cheat, knows it.  It takes a monumental effort to release his nostrils, but that’s precisely what Pascal does.  He squeaks, trills, and grunts.  He gestures, gesticulates, pantomimes and begs, but the donkey isn’t the least bit interested in any of it.  He huffs, looking bored and unimpressed, and then presents his hind quarters for easy viewing.

“Oh no you don’t!” Eugene says, vaulting over the short gate.  “You are going to take us to Weinburg.  I am going to see Rapunzel and I am going to ask her to marry me before Prince Eager-Perfect-Twinkle-Toes-Dragon-Slayer can put any more moves on her!”

The donkey doesn’t budge.  But Eugene is a man at the end of his rope, not to be trifled with or underestimated.  Pascal runs over to the latch on the gate and pulls it up.  Now, Eugene just has to get the donkey out of the stable.  

Eugene gives the creature an ineffective shove on the backside.  The donkey gives him a kick in the shin in return.

The man glares at the beast.  The beast lies down on the ground.  If donkeys could smirk, Pascal is pretty sure he would be.  And under any other circumstances, Pascal would have enjoyed this standoff a great deal more than he is currently.

But as Eugene’s urgency grows, Pascal begins to question the queen’s words.  Would Rapunzel really just leave them behind?  Exclude them from what is probably the biggest event of her young life thus far?  Would she really do that to her best friends?  Of course she wouldn’t.  Pascal feels acute shame at having doubted her.  He hastens to come to Eugene’s aid, scurrying down the gate.  Once again (and more emphatically this time!) he tries to reason with the creature.  The donkey rather determinedly falls asleep when Pascal is in the middle of his speech.  He makes a fist with one hand.  

“Slow down there, Tiger,” Eugene says, a sadistic twinkle entering his eyes.  “How about doing that tongue-in-ear trick?”

Pascal nods and opens his mouth wide.  His tongue flies out and lands perfectly in the donkey’s ear.  He jolts up, looking for the source of the disturbance.

“We’re.  Going.  To.  See.  Rapunzel,” Eugene proclaims as he tugs on the halter.

With feet braced, Eugene manages to move him less than one chameleon length.

This… is going to take a while, Pascal acknowledges with a sigh.  In fact, at this rate, they’re never going to reach Rapunzel before the supposed wedding takes place.

Before Pascal can attempt to help Eugene push the donkey – something he is understandably reluctant to resort to – he feels the ground shaking underneath his tiny feet.  Someone is approaching them.  Quickly.  And on horseback!  He scrambles up Eugene’s body and fades into the same dark brown as the man’s vest.  He stares wide-eyed at the oncoming rider.

Pascal’s jaw drops when he gets his first clear view of the horse and then his lizard heart stops at the sight of his rider.  It’s Maximus, racing onto the castle grounds with Rapunzel on his back.  The stallion clamors to a hoof-skidding, limb flailing halt and Rapunzel, hair windblown, face tear-streaked and eyes puffy, launches herself at Eugene, clinging to the stunned man and nearly squishing Pascal in the process.

“Eugene!  Eugene!  It’s Daddy,” she sobs, grasping his doublet and tugging so frantically that Pascal has to cling to the fabric with all his strength.  “They’ve taken Daddy!”

Chapter 5