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littlemisslol-fic · 3 years ago

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The Silent Opera

Chapter Thirteen: I Hear a Symphony

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: Secrets can't be kept forever. They're slippery like that. (PLEASE CHECK THE AO3 VERSION FOR POTENTIAL TWs, THIS CHAPTER IS A LITTLE DARK)

((PLEASE NOTE: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS BRIEF SEXUAL HARASSMENT/ATTEMPTED ASSAULT. THERE WILL BE A TL/DR IN THE BOTTOM NOTES SO THAT YOU CAN SKIP IT AND STILL KNOW WHAT HAPPENED. IT WILL BE MARKED WITH TWO ** AT THE START AND END OF THE SCENE. CLOTHES STAY ON AND IT’S MOSTLY JUST UNWANTED, PUSHY ADVANCES/TOUCHING, BUT PLEASE KNOW YOUR LIMIT AND PLAY WITHIN IT.))

Things had… not been going to plan, lately.

Or maybe they were—just a bit too well. The wedding preparations had started the literal second Varian had been pulled from the great hall; once the crowd had abated Nigel had shuffled them into a side room covered in hundreds of swatches for various paraphernalia, not that Varian was paying attention.

But Hugo hadn’t wanted him to do it.

It makes him… suspicious. Or more suspicious of Hugo’s heel-spin turn from wanting Varian closer only to suddenly pushing him away. Something had happened—there’s no way Hugo had made such a switch on his own, especially when Varian was actively trying to patch things between them. It doesn’t make any sense—and Varian’s going to get to the bottom of it, come hell or high water.

But first he has to deal with the cluster-fuckery he’s been pulled into.

The side room’s one of the war rooms, though it hasn’t seen that specific purpose in years. Instead, the main table’s covered in pieces of cloth, cutlery, china, and what looks like colour chips that one would use to determine paint. For a second Varian’s confused, just absolutely baffled, but then it clicks.

Ah, wedding planning already?

Landis looks just as lost as Varian feels. Nigel’s going at a mile a minute, yapping away about colour theory and national flowers and a bunch of other things Varian’s never even thought about before—it all quickly turns into word soup.

“Neither of you are leaving this room until you’ve chosen one from each,” Nigel says, “and it’s been approved by either myself or Frederic. We only have a week, so you’ll have to pick soon.” When neither of them move his face dips into something impatient. “Quickly, if you please!”

Varian and Landis meet each other’s eye. It’s almost comforting that Landis looks as out of his element as Varian is. But it’s true—they only have a week to prepare and knowing the last wedding that the castle had hosted—Rapunzel and Eugene’s—there’s a lot of work to be done. So he goes to the nearest table, looking over a series of cutlery sets. They’re all designed differently, embossed with small flowers or symbols or… designs that Varian can’t really put his finger on. He picks one up—it’s got little daisies on it, which are cute enough—but when Landis pulls a face he puts it down. This is going to take forever. Oddly enough, Varian feels ready to burst into tears.

“Maybe we’ll start with picking a colour,” comes a female voice from behind. Varian turns to see Rapunzel, which sets him a bit more at ease. At least, he thinks, his sister is here to help. At least someone’s around to be normal.

He’s definitely going to need it.

—————♪—————

Hugo’s going to throw himself of a bridge. Or maybe the roof. Or maybe just drown himself in the lake, that’s always an option.

Coward, his thoughts scream, fucking useless coward, you took too long, hid like a little bitch, and now you’ve lost—

Gods, he’d lost it all, hadn’t he? Lost his chance, lost his… his Soulmate. He couldn’t even buck up for something so important, instead he’d opted to shrink away, stick his head in the dirt, and now he’s up a creek without a paddle. He’d had months, months, to get his shit together, and he hadn’t done it. And now, just like Rapunzel said, he’d missed his window. The gap had closed.

But he wanders the halls, stewing, because he just can’t let it go. His thoughts gnaw on it, a dog on a bone that just won’t crack, the constant thought of I can still fix this, I know I can, I just need a plan—but Landis had enough dirt to send Hugo right to prison, no trial no questions no guesswork. Even if he confessed, even if Varian forgave Hugo for being an asshole, he’d probably end up tossed in the dungeon before he could even act on anything.

He’s always been one to turn and run at the drop of a hat; always flaky, never digging his heels in when it mattered. Not like Varian, who would stand his ground over anything.

Maybe that’s something Hugo should try to emulate. He… this was important. Too important to just roll over and give up—especially just because Landis had an up on him. He could confess and make a break for he got arrested or try and steal the note back from Landis… or he could do what has to be done.

He needs to talk to Varian.

The Song’s been chaotic since Varian had accepted Landis’s proposal (ew, ew, ew,) and had been nothing but turmoil and anxiety, something that threatened to make Hugo’s stomach turn inside out multiple times. It’s easy to follow it through the castle to its source. They need to talk. He’d hit up Atilla’s for a peace offering beforehand: its slight weight might as well be pure lead for how heavy it feels.

He catches sight of Varian in the hall, being trailed by no fewer than six different castle officials. He looks like shit, really, dark bags developing under his glazed over eyes and his hair a mess. The people follow him barrage him with questions, ones that Hugo can hear even from the other side of the hall.

“Which of these for the table runners?”

“What style of music, regular waltz or Viennese?”

“Any allergies?”

“You still need to get your guest list ready—”

Varian looks ready to tear his hair out, stopping in the middle of the hall.

“That one. I don’t care. Hazelnuts. I gave it to Rapunzel this morning. Anything else?” His voice is frosty; they must pick up the hint as they scatter immediately. Varian looks like he wants to grab a nearby vase and chuck it after them, just to make sure they stay gone—but he manages to hold it together.

Hugo slowly approaches. He’s trying to be sneaky, but the paper bag in his hand crumples just so, ruining his stealth immediately. Varian turns—for just a split second he looks ready to tear someone’s head off—but the second he sees Hugo the expression melts into something carefully closed. It hurts a bit, to see the flatness there.

In lieu of launching into everything he wants to say, Hugo holds up the bag.

“I have a peace offering?”

Varian looks down to the bag. Back up at Hugo. Back to the bag. He’s calculating, before reaching out carefully to snatch the thing and draw it close. When he gets a peek at what’s in there he looks back to Hugo with an arched brow.

“What do you want?”

“To talk?” It sounds feeble to Hugo’s own ears. “I just… you were right, something happened before we met up in the lab. A-and I acted weird because of it. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

Varian listens to him as he talks. His lips are pursed. Hugo’s hands are fucking shaking; the idea of coming clean is absolutely terrifying, about anything, Donella’s plot, their connection, even Landis’s threats—so many different facets and each one was more than enough for Varian to throw him out a window. Thankfully, Varian only looks down the hall before reaching into the bag and pulling out a chocolate cupcake—the same type he’d gotten when they’d visited the bakery together. Varian inspects it, like a jeweler would a diamond, before he fixes his gaze on Hugo with a flat expression.

“You have until I finish this,” he says, “and then I have to go to my next meeting. Start talking.” He takes a bite, looking expectantly at Hugo.

“It was Landis—” the words start pouring. “—he found something in my room, and he knows that I… that we… well. He knew for sure that I wanted to be more-than-friends.”

Varian’s pretty pale, but he keeps chewing. “Does he know about how far we went?” he asks.

“He didn’t mention it. I think if he did, he would have said something. I think he just noticed how much time we spent together and he didn’t like it. Before we fought, he was in the lab. He’s the one that broke Seventeen.” Varian’s eyes narrow at that. “And he told me that if I didn’t back off, I’d regret it.”

Varian’s halfway through his cupcake. “So you decided to be a dick?”

Shame burns Hugo’s cheeks. “Yeah. I thought if I could make you upset with me, it would be easier to… to push you away.”

“Well it worked.”

Another bite of the cupcake. Fuck, he’s running out of time. “It wasn’t my best plan. But that’s… that’s why. And there’s more I have to tell you, but it can’t be out in the open like this.”

Varian finishes his food. He fixes Hugo with a calculating stare as he chews. For a horrible second Hugo thinks he’s fucked this up beyond repair: that Varian will send him away without letting him say everything he needs to, that he’ll be trapped in a horrible pining mess of what could have been forever.

But Varian swallows and sighs. “Fine,” he says. “I have to go to a meeting, and then dinner, but after that I’ll be free. Meet me in the lab, and I’ll let you say your piece.” Hugo’s face must light up, as Varian shoves a finger in his face. “You’re not forgiven yet. You fucked up, Hugo, and you owe me the truth. Or the rest of it? You know what I mean!”

But he still gives the empty bag back to Hugo. “Tonight, okay?”

Hugo swallows past the lump in his throat. “Tonight’s perfect.”

Varian sighs and shakes his head before Nigel’s voice echoes through the halls. “Fuck’s sake. I’ve got to go, I’ll find you tonight okay? And you might want to go find Rapunzel, she was looking for you earlier.”

“For me?”

“Yeah, something about needing to make a game-plan. What are you two up to?”

Hugo just shrugs, trying his most roguish grin. It gets him an eye roll. Varian takes his leave, waving casually as he leaves to continue his planning. Hugo stands alone in the hall. His knees shake.

“Tonight,” he whispers. “Tonight. I can do tonight.”

Tonight is going to fucking kill him, one way or another, but at least he’ll die knowing what he needs to. He bounces on his heels; he feels both light as a feather and chained to the ground—and he needs to find the princess. She could probably help him figure out what he’s going to say. He leaves, then, heading off to find her. He’d need help with tonight. In fact, he’s so caught up in his newfound deadline that he misses a figure standing behind a nearby suit of armor.

It’s a mistake he’ll come to regret.

—————♪—————

Varian had thought things were bad before the proposal but now that the plans have to officially make he’s sorely missing that time. At least back then he’d been able to spend an hour or two in the lab, with Hugo, but now he’s absolutely swamped—he can’t even spend time packing his things during the day, instead having to do it when the hour’s so late that everyone’s already gone to bed. He can’t trust a maid to do it, not with his alchemical equipment; someone could end up hurt, and that’s the last thing he fucking needs right now.

At least the growth serum was finished. His last assignment as royal alchemist, as bitter a thought as it is, had been a raging success. Farmers from around the kingdom were starting to report nearly triple the output of grain and corn, some had even started to build more storage to prepare for higher yields. For some reason Varian still gets a bitter taste at the back of the throat despite the success.

He closes his small suitcase with a sigh. He’s not done quite yet, but it’ll do for now. He had to go meet Hugo in a bit, after all. Things certainly made a lot more sense now that the truth had come out—why Hugo had been so aggressive, why he’d pushed back against Varian trying to mend things—but it didn’t make what he said okay. There’d better be more cupcakes on the way if Hugo wants to be forgiven.

His whirling thoughts grind to a halt when there’s a knock on his door. Hugo, maybe? Varian had said he’d meet the blond later, but maybe he got impatient…

Varian reaches out, opening the door wide, only for the smile on his face to slide into a frown when he sees who’s on the other side.

“Varian,” Landis croons. “You left after dinner.”

“Oh, I uh, I wanted to get some work done…” Varian shuffles his weight on his feet, awkward. It’s uncomfortable to be so near to his, well, his fiancé while the man’s acting so strange. Landis puts a massive hand on the doorframe and leans closer. Varian’s nose curls at the smell of booze, thick on his breath. Gross.

“Have you been drinking?”

Landis shrugs. “Me and the lads might have been doing a bit of a bachelor party, sure,” he says. "It’s fine.”

Varian’s smile grows strained. “I’m actually about to step out for a second, would you like me to escort you back to your room? Sleep it off?”

Landis frowns, instead leaning closer. When Varian backs up the man takes his chance and muscles into Varian’s room, looking around with a judgmental look on his face. Didn’t invite you in, but fine, Varian grumbles to himself.

“So this is your room?” Landis asks, picking up one of Varian’s notebooks with pinched fingers.

“What’s left of it,” Varian replies. He reaches for the book, tugging it free carefully. “I’ve been packing, you know.”

“Hmmm yeah, when you’re not hiding away with that blond guy.”

“You mean Hugo?”

Landis’s face sours. “Yeah,” he mutters, “Hugo. You spend so much time with him.”

Ah, right. Apparently Landis is more astute than they thought. “Well, he is my lab partner.” Varian puts the book on his desk. He’s going to be late to meet Hugo if Landis doesn’t vacate the premises soon. “He’s literally paid to be around me, your grace.” He tacks the title on at the end to keep from sounding rude; it sounds fake even to Varian.

Landis’s expression darkens that little bit more. Something feels… wrong. The air is sour. Something about the way Landis holds himself, even drunk, feels almost threatening. It’s not right. Varian’s foot taps against the hardwood floor; his fingers twitch. Even the fire in his hearth, which had just seemed so warm and inviting, now throws long light against the walls and almost seems to warp everything.

Something’s not right.

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

Varian twitches when Landis speaks again. Play dumb, play dumb. “How’s that?”

“I’ve seen it.” The floors creak when Landis shifts his weight. “He looks at you like he likes you. Like he can have you.”

Varian turns to give the Grand Duke a piece of his mind—fucking offensive asshole, talking about Hugo like that—before reeling back against the desk when Landis’s face is right fucking there.

“You’re not his,” Landis says. Varian’s breath hitches—his body feels like it’s locking up in sheer offense at that—but he manages to keep a straight face. If he fucks this up now, when Corona is so close to being saved…

He’d never forgive himself.

“I’m not yours, either,” is what he says. It’s not challenging, but factual. He’s not either of theirs; he’s a fucking person, regardless of who he hangs around. Landis’s presses that little bit closer. Varian feels a large hand grab his left wrist and bring it up beside their faces.

“Not yet,” Landis tells him, “but this ring says otherwise. You’d do best to remember that.” It glitters in the firelight, the branding burn of it completely capturing Varian’s attention. He tries to gently tug his wrist from Landis’s grasp—can’t be too obvious, can’t offend, but he needs Landis to let the fuck go right now—but there’s no give.

“Please let go of me,” Varian says softly. If he lets himself go any louder he’s sure he’ll scream it to the ceiling.

Landis doesn’t. That grip gets tighter, enough to hurt, and instead he leans closer. Varian finds himself leaning back—don’t come any closer, don’t, I don’t want you to—but if anything that only drives his back further into the desk. The pinch of it rattles up his spine.

“Let go of me.” This one’s stronger. “You’re drunk and acting strangely. I want to leave.”

Landis scoffs. His unoccupied hand moves down, pressing against the desk and boxing Varian’s hip in. It’s uncomfortable; their breaths mix, sickening heat begins to sink into the scant space between them. Alarm bells are ringing at full force in Varian’s mind—this is not fucking good.

“We’ll be husbands soon,” he croons, “don’t you want to see what that’ll be like? It could be fun.”

He’s slurring. Gods, he’s really drunk. But he’s also huge and stronger than Varian is, and that idea is fucking terrifying.

“No—”

“Aw, what, saving yourself for marriage?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

Landis’s face turns into a sly grin, and the hand on the desk turns into one on his fucking hip—

“I bet I could change your mind.”

Ice runs through his blood. His heart’s beating a frantic tattoo against his chest—panic and anxiety and no small amount of genuine fear ring through his thoughts without giving any chance for an actual idea to form. He needs to—to run, or to escape, to fucking something that gets him the fuck out of this situation.

Horribly, he realizes there’s no one really in this wing of the castle. Varian, ages ago, had argued for his room to be closer to his lab, tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the castle due to his nocturnal lifestyle. He’s soundly regretting that choice now.

Landis leans forward. His one hand is still holding Varian’s wrist, keeping him from squirming too far. Sickeningly, the one on his hip begins to rub a thumb along the edge of his shirt.

“You’ll like it,” he says like that would make it true, “c’mon, we’ll be married soon enough. Do your husbandly duties, huh?”

It takes everything in Varian not to scream. “I said no!”

“And I said you’ll like it.”

The hand on his wrist gets tighter. It’s definitely going to bruise. Varian’s free hand shifts back to keep his balance. Landis looms over him—Varian shudders when he feels fingers slip under his shirt and along his stomach.

“Stop—” he manages to gasp out through his strangled throat, “stop, stop, stop—”

“You’re beautiful.” Landis leans forward and presses a sloppy kiss along Varian’s throat. The alchemist jerks roughly at the touch. “You are, just a perfect thing for me,” he lets out a heated, alcohol infused breath. “All mine.”

Varian’s wandering hand finds something solid. He sucks in a breath and grabs it tightly before swinging his arm and bringing it down against the side of Landis’s head.

It’s a scale, the very one that Hugo had requested from the alchemy shop. Not heavy enough to knock the man out, but it’s enough that finally Varian’s free enough to scuttle away. Landis yelps when the burner hits him, hands flying up to rub at the impact. The grand duke’s hands leaving his skin comes with a swell of relief, even if the danger isn’t gone yet.

Varian’s off like a shot the second he’s free. Panic takes over at long last—run, run, get away from him and hide, find someone… Eugene, Rapunzel, Hugo, anyone—and he doesn’t look back even when he nearly rips the door off its hinges in an attempt to get the fuck gone.

His footsteps echo through the halls—he can’t tell where he’s fucking going, he just needs to hide—and everything blurs into one incomprehensible mess. He sprints, passing servants and maids and staff and everyone he’s supposed to protect—

He needs to hide. And though he might not be thinking of it consciously, his feet already know the way. He needs somewhere out of the way. Quiet. So he runs, runs like a spooked deer until he can find somewhere he can be safe.

And he knows just the place.

—————♪—————

“What do you mean you told him to fuck off?”

Hugo winces when the curse leaves Rapunzel’s mouth.

“I might have screwed up a bit.”

“A bit?”

“A lot.”

She tugs on her hair, pacing back and forth through the hall. It had taken time for Hugo to find her—she’d already vanished to dinner by the time he’d managed to get over the raging anxiety of his looming confession—but now he’s wishing he’d done it earlier.

“I can’t leave you two alone for twenty seconds, can I?” Rapunzel finally sighs, though the way her lips quirk up into a small smile shows how upset she actually is. “Okay… okay. We’ll have to figure something else out; Varian accepted the proposal, so that’s… not great. We’ll have to pull out the big guns.”

“The big guns?” Hugo shifts nervously, half ignoring her. The Song’s ratcheting up, a little more anxious than it had been a second ago—though, their meeting is getting closer? Maybe that’s why…

“What if you two had a romantic dinner,” Rapunzel coos, “oh, you could get him flowers! Wait, I don’t think he’d like flowers… maybe some alchemy stuff!”

Hugo tunes her out, listening harder as Varian’s Song amps up again. What the fuck—?!

He flinches roughly at a sudden scream that echoes through the Song—it’s terrified, like nothing Hugo’s ever heard from Varian in nearly twenty years. Hugo smacks into the wall with how harshly he reels back; the pain doesn’t even register over the Song shrieking in his ear.

“—Hugo?” The ringing finally fades enough that Rapunzel’s worried voice leaks through. “Hugo, what is it?”

“Varian,” he heaves out, like the name’s being dragged from his lungs. “Something—where’s Varian?”

Her brows knit, concern plan across her face. “I don’t know, his room, probably? Hugo, what’s happening with Varian?”

But Hugo doesn’t stop to answer and bolts the second Rapunzel gives him a location. His thoughts swirl, his own panic mixes with the frantic staccato of Varian’s Song—his heart rate is through the fucking roof already; everything in his brain has boiled down to find Varian, find Varian, find Varian.

Because he’s never heard the Song act like this, not with pure, primal, animal kind of fear. The type Hugo’s felt before when he’s come close to getting shot. It’s not something he’d ever expected to hear from Varian—and especially not here, in Corona, where he should be safe.

Hugo’s thoughts race with the worst kind of scenarios. What if he’s hurt? What if someone’s attacked him? What if he’s stuck somewhere and can’t get out? It all spurs him faster, sprinting through the castle at a breakneck pace.

Castle employees scatter when they see him coming, getting out of the way and calling his name in confusion. He doesn’t dare stop, not when Varian could be in trouble—could be hurt, could need help, could be trapped—and instead lets the Song’s tumultuous screams guide him in the right direction.

Hugo barrels straight into one of the guards, knocking the man over; but he doesn’t even break stride, sprinting past him even when the man curses at his back.

He starts to recognize the hallways. He’s been here before—with Varian. He doesn’t even pause when he hits the stairs of the tower. Instead, he races up it nearly on all fours to go as fast as he can. The Song grows louder and louder, the panic and fear starting to dim into pure, unadulterated agony.

Hugo hits the top of the tower and barges out the door. “Varian!” he cries, “Varian, are you up here!?” Please, Maker above, let him be up here.

There’s a shifting noise from nearby. Hugo whirls around, heaving for breath, but the air’s torn from his lungs when he finally sees a pair of blue, red-rimmed eyes.

Varian’s near the edge of the roof—not too close, but the same place he was sitting the last time they’d met up here.

“H—Hugo?” his voice cracks. “What… what the fuck are you doing up here?”

Hugo’s lungs finally start working again. “Are you okay?” The question spills out before he can even comprehend what Varian had asked him. “Are you hurt?”

Varian’s face scrunches in confusion. Hugo nearly reaches for him but pulls back at the last second. Varian’s face is red and blotchy, covered in tears, but now he’s looking at Hugo like he’s the one freaking out—which, arguably, he probably is.

“Are you hurt?” Hugo repeats. His Soulmate’s face crumbles at the question, new tears springing free. It takes everything in Hugo to keep himself from wiping them away.

“I—It’s fine. I’m fine.”

"It doesn’t sound fine.”

Varian’s face sours. “It’s never fucking fine!” he snaps. “I just had to fight off my own fiancé, in what world is that fine?”

Hugo reaches for him then and tugs him into a hug. Varian’s whole body shakes—rough, trembling shudders that threaten to tear them both apart. The Song’s barely calmed down, still ringing with adrenaline. It breaks his heart. “It’s okay to not be okay,” Hugo murmurs. Varian’s hands lift and for a second Hugo thinks he’s about to get hit. But Varian instead wraps them around the blond’s shoulders, holding tight.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.” His voice ghosts along Hugo’s collarbone. “I—I, he…”

“What happened?”

Varian’s hands grip tighter into the back of Hugo’s shirt. “Technically nothing.”

“But theoretically?”

Varian just shakes his head. “He was drunk, wanted… something. Didn’t like when I said no.”

Ah. The pieces snap in place. It takes everything for Hugo to keep his reaction under control, to swallow down the rush of anger—Varian needs him right now.

“When I see him, he’s dead.”

Varian sniffles a sigh. “He’s like twice your size.”

“When has that ever stopped me?” It’s stopped him plenty of times before. But Varian doesn’t know that. And honestly when it comes to Landis—and what the fucking prick just tried—it’s a special case.

Varian pulls back from the hug, wiping his eyes. “You’d get murdered,” he manages to joke. “Or arrested.”

Hugo coughs and tries to shake off the feeling of Varian’s warmth from his skin. “I mean, we’re basically already there,” he says. When Varian tilts his head, Hugo sighs. “It’s about what I was going to tell you, before. But if it’s a bad time we can… we can hold off.” It might actually kill him to hold off, but if Varian’s in a bad spot…

The Maker must smile on him, though, as Varian shakes his head. “No, no. You’ve left me waiting for this all day, I want the truth. Especially since we only have a week before… before I move. We might not get another chance.”

So they end up sitting on the roof. It’s the same way they’d been the afternoon before the ball, back when things seemed so much simpler. Back before they’d been locked on this hellish ride with no way off. The knot in Hugo’s stomach is so tight that he’s close to vomiting—but Varian’s right. It’s now or never.

“It’s a bit of a long story, okay? And you have to promise… to promise to let me finish before you make any choices.”

Varian nods. Hugo sucks in a breath through his nose and forces his mouth to open.

“I’m not… not from Koto’s palace. Not really.” Varian’s eyes scrunch together, but now that the words have started Hugo can’t stop them. “I was telling the truth when I said I grew up homeless, and that my mentor found me. Her name is Donella, and she runs… a crime ring.”

Hugo looks out to the courtyard. He can’t face Varian right now. “We got word that the archivist’s assistant from Koto’s royal family was going to cancel his apprenticeship here, but we intercepted the letter. I arrived instead. I’m not… I’m not supposed to be here, Varian. Not really. My job was to find gaps in Fitzherbert’s security and grab one of the crowns from the vault, then deliver it to a contact at an inn by the water on the day of hearts. I’d finish the apprenticeship, and then go back home to fence the thing.”

He bites the inside of his cheek. “So that’s why Landis was able to threaten me. He found a letter from Donnie and he’s holding it over my head if I kept talking to you—he said he’d have me arrested on conspiracy to commit theft and impersonating a castle official. Probably some other shit too if he can swing it.” He rubs at his eyes, the shame of it taking over. The silence speaks volumes. “I… I can’t back out. Donnie would kill me—she’s my mom, I can’t do that to her. But I found something here, something I don’t want to give up. And I don’t know what to do.”

There’s a dreadful, horrible, moment of quiet. Hugo’s hands shake. He can’t fucking do this, can’t listen to Varian berate him, can’t deal with being told to fuck off by his Soulmate, not again.

“I’m so sorry,” Hugo finally bites out. “I never should have called you those things. It was stupid and I was angry, but that isn’t an excuse. I just didn’t know what else to do.”

A pair of arms wrap around his neck. Hugo goes stiff at the feeling. Breath ghosts along the shell of his ear; fluffy hair tickles his neck. The Song rolls with some kind of emotion Hugo can’t place.

“You idiot,” Varian breathes. “You really think I’d kick you out over something like that? Hugo, I was a criminal too—I stole things from that vault. I—I can’t pretend to know what you’ve been through, but… I get it. Being desperate. Needing to make them proud of you.”

The air rushes out of Hugo’s lungs. “You’re… not mad?”

Varian stifles a laugh. “I’m the reason they tightened security, blondie,” he says, “it’d be hypocritical of me to be. Besides,” he reaches up to cup Hugo’s jaw, turning him so that they face each other, “you taught me how to pick a lock. I guessed there must have been more to you.”

Hugo can’t help it; he laughs. “Fuck,” he sighs, “and here I was ready to make a run for it.”

Varian pinches his arm, “I’m full of surprises.”

The blond sighs, leaning forward until their foreheads touch. “Yeah,” he says softly, “you are.”

Varian presses back, closing his eye with a sigh. The Song croons, a gentle tide of music that does everything to set Hugo at ease. “You haven’t done anything yet, right?” he asks. When Hugo shakes his head, Varian nods. “Good, then we can work with that. You said Landis had a note?”

“One from Donnie, yeah.”

“We can use that. I’ll distract him and you can sneak around and grab it. Or we can claim it’s a fake. So long as you’re safe.”

Something under Hugo’s heart warms. He’s struck with a stupid idea, one that’s so dumb Varian would never agree, but the way it rises through his throat it slips from between his teeth before he can stop it.

“Run away with me,” he whispers. Varian’s arms tighten around him for a fraction of a second before the alchemist pulls back.

“What?”

Hugo meets those wide, blue eyes. “Run away with me. We can leave, both of us. Just pack up and run. We’re smart, we can make it work. I just—” want everything, “—I want to be with you. I don’t care what it takes to make that happen. If you want me to never steal again, I’ll do it. But I can’t watch you throw everything away, not like this. We could go somewhere far away, where they’ll never find us. Start a farm, you can show me how to make things grow—or we could get an apartment in a big city, start an alchemy shop.” Varian’s hands find his. Hugo brings them to his lips for a kiss. Varian makes a breathy noise at the feeling of it. Hugo’s eyes slip shut, just thinking about what kind of future they could have together. It’s beautiful. It’s everything he wants.

Varian’s quiet. It’s an insane idea, one that Hugo knows he won’t agree too, but the image of a future they could build together is something to cherish. From the way their heads are leaning up against each other, Hugo feels how Varian shakes his head.

“I can’t,” he says. His voice cracks. “It sounds wonderful… but I can’t. Not with my family at risk.”

Somehow their hands find each other. “I understand,” Hugo says to cover up the sound of his heart cracking. “But there’s something else you need to know—before you make that choice.” Varian’s eyes squeeze shut. For what feels like only seconds they sit, mourning what could have been, until Varian sighs out a question.

“What did you find?” he asks. Hugo makes a questioning noise, so Varian repeats himself. “You said you found something here, something you don’t want to give up. What did you find?”

“I… I found my Soulmate.”

Varian flinches back. Hugo tightens his grip on Varian’s hands—don’t leave me, not now—and holds them tight. The alchemist looks ready to crumble, like he’ll shatter with another word. His devastation is palpable—so Hugo forces himself to speak. To keep the moment going before it can get stuck and sink into the muck of his own mistakes.

“I found him. He’s… he’s amazing. He’s kind, and funny, and so, so smart.” The Song dips into such hurt, such sadness, that it nearly steals Hugo’s breath away—because Varian thinks he’s talking about someone else. But Varian hasn’t pulled away entirely yet. There’s still a chance. So he keeps going, pushing, moving the truth closer and closer.

“He loves his family more than anything—his dad, his sister, so many others. And he loves this city, even when he hasn’t always thought so.” Hugo holds Varian’s hands tighter; he couldn’t let go now if he tried. “I’ve known him for only a few months, but it feels like it’s been forever—and I can’t help but want to keep him in my life, even when I know that I can’t offer him much of anything compared to the life he’s got now. He makes me want to be selfish.”

Varian’s starting to put the pieces together. It’s obvious—in the way his shoulders hike up, the way his blue eyes start to spark with recognition. In the way he stares at Hugo like he’s gone insane—but under it all, hope starts to leak through the Song.

“Hugo, who… who is your Soulmate?”

Hugo smiles wetly, letting the first tear slip free.

“It’s you, Varian,” he finally says. “It was always you.”

The Song stutters to a shocked halt. The needle skips the groove as Varian stares at him with such open confusion it hurts to see. “M—me?” he asks. “How could it… I don’t—Hugo, you can’t be joking about things like this.”

“I’m not,” but how to make him see that? “The day I arrived, on your birthday. I heard you Sing. I Resonated.”

Varian’s shaking his head. His whole body screams in denial, especially when Varian manages to pull his hands out of Hugo’s to hold at his chest. Hiding his heart away.

“Hugo I—I don’t think that’s possible.” But they both know it is. “A one-sided bond like that, it’s almost as rare as…”

“As being Songless?”

Varian’s face crumples. Hugo chances reaching out, wiping a stray tear away. “I hear you, Varian,” he says reverently. “Your Song is perfect.”

Varian shakes his head then. “That can’t be it.”

“Why not?”

“Because—because if I’m you’re Soulmate, then I’ve ruined your life, Hugo! You should hate me! Stuck in a bond with someone who’d never hear you back? What kind of a life is that?!”

“One that I want, so long as you’re in it.”

Varian’s Song nearly trips over itself, the cascading feelings of JoyHopePainHurt all falling over each other in a desperate attempt to come out on top. The alchemist shakes his head again. His eyes slam shut—Hugo feels a slight trill of fear when Varian pulls away.

“You’re confused,” he says. His voice is oddly flat. “You… the Song made you think like this. That you’re… you’re obligated to end up with me. You’ve grown up with the idea of me in your head, one that the Song gave you, and you’re just following it because that’s what everyone expects you to do. Hugo—I don’t want to make it sound like I don’t like you, I do, but do you like me for me, or because the Song says you’re supposed to like me?”

Hugo’s struck speechless for a brutal moment. Varian must assume his answer, as he begins to pull farther away—the sight makes Hugo panic, a trill of horror running up his spine at the thought. “Don’t go—” he gasps, “—don’t go, I just need to talk.”

Varian pauses. He looks at Hugo like he’s seeing him in a new light, one that’s considerably more delicate than anything else he’s seen before. Hugo sucks in air like he’s been drowning; his grip is white knuckled on Varian’s sleeve.

“I—when we first met, I didn’t like you,” he blurts out. Varian huffs a shocked laugh, but Hugo keeps the thought rolling. “After I Resonated, when we met in the library, I didn’t think I liked you. I—I judged you before we got to know each other, which was wrong, but I was convinced I didn’t like you. I ignored the Song. I always have.”

Varian’s fixated on him now, those blue eyes wide as he searches Hugo’s face for any kind of lie. The blond clears his throat against the thickness of his words. “And I thought I would be fine, right? I’ve always been by myself, I thought I didn’t need anyone. But then there you were, and I got to know you—”

“Hugo?”

“Please, let me finish. I got to know you, Varian. And I saw someone who was so… sure of himself. So determined to do the right thing, even at a personal cost, and wanted nothing but the best for everyone around him. Varian I saw you, and I know that I would have liked you no matter what.”

But Varian stills shakes his head. “It’s not real, Hugo,” he mutters. Hugo’s heart lurches when he makes to stand—he’s leaving, just like Hugo had always feared, just like Donella had said he would, and there’s only one thing to keep him here, to make him listen.

It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once. Everything he’s ever felt pours out of him as the words flow, the music in his ear flowing in tune. Varian freezes when Hugo starts—he shudders, staring at Hugo with wide, frightened eyes. But Hugo refuses to stop, not now that he’s finally jumped off the knife’s edge and picked his path. The Song continues to flow from him, all the pain and agony of his childhood, the respect for Donella and her work, and, dare he say, the affection he holds for Varian, the one that had nestled in the space right below his heart and refused to leave.

It goes on for an agonizing time until the melody finally dies. Hugo closes his Song, and the silence rushes back in. Varian’s gaping, a fish out of water, looking like someone’s dropped a bomb on him. He’s pale, scarily so—Hugo reaches a cautious hand for him, only for it to be shrugged away as Varian retakes his seat. The alchemist’s eyes are blown wide and he brings up a pair of shaking hands to cover his ears.

“Varian?” Hugo’s voice drifts through the quite of the night. It’s cautious, and scared, and oh so very hopeful. Varian’s head snaps to him, those eyes complexly unreadable. He looks ready to cry, ready to laugh, ready for something—but then, like a rushing wave, a wall of emotion flings through Hugo’s end of the bond. Shock, agony, fear, but above all… disbelief.

“Hugo,” he gasps. His voice is scratchy. “Hugo I—holy shit, I—Hugo—!”

He slaps his hands over his ears then. Varian curls in on himself, shuddering like he’s about to fall apart. Hugo reaches for him then, a solid hand to the shoulder to keep Varian from toppling over; it’s that warm touch that springs Varian back to the present.

“Varian?” Hugo asks again. He’s struck by the feeling of hope, sick and cloying and oh so very desperate.

His Soulmate looks at him then, eyes swimming with tears. “I—I hear it,” he whispers. “Hugo, I hear it.” And then he’s rushing forward, Varian’s arms coming up and grabbing him into a tight hug. “I hear it,” Varian whispers, “I hear you.”

Hugo shudders at the thought. A cold fear works down his spine, unyielding and smooth. Varian could hear him, all of him, every horrible nook and cranny, every rough edge of his rough personality—what a horrifying thought. Surely he’d run away screaming, once the shock wears off.

Varian pulls back from the hug. For a second he looks ready to kiss Hugo, to draw him in and Resonate in a very different way. The alchemist leans forward; Hugo lets his eyes slip shut in anticipation…

So when he gets a firm slap upside the head, he decidedly doesn’t see it coming.

“What the fuck!?” Varian snaps. “Why the hell didn’t you say something?! Hugo it’s been six months! What the fuck were you waiting for, a goddamn invitation?!”

Hugo ducks out of the way of another swing. It’s not like Varian’s smacking very hard; he’s definitely not out to hurt, but that doesn’t mean Hugo’s about to take it. Varian makes another half-hearted swat before his hands drop to Hugo’s face to hold him in place. Their eyes meet—there’s a mix, in Varian’s eye: something dancing around rage and exasperation and humor.

“I couldn’t!” Hugo admits. “Not at first, I didn’t want a Soulmate, and you were…”

“Songless?”

“Notoriously so.”

Varian looks ready to strangle him. Hugo looks away, out to the night sky. There’s so many stars—he’s suddenly hit with the thought of Varian’s freckles. The Song trills. Fuck, he’s got it bad. Hugo sighs and scratches the back of his neck.

“I don’t know,” he finally said. “It started with just not believing it. And then I thought, with the Song thing—I’ve never Sang, not before tonight, but I thought the Song made a mistake—I wanted to think that. So I just… did.”

Varian looks up to those same stars. “All this time.”

Hugo shrugs. “Not a lot of time for Singing when you’re busy running for your life.”

But Varian shakes his head. “That’s not true,” he says. “Eugene has a similar backstory and Rapunzel’s told me about hearing the Song since she was born. Why didn’t you Sing?”

“It’s more complicated than that—”

“No it’s not. Hugo, I spent my entire life Songless because you didn’t Sing. I want an answer from you please.” He looks ready to start crying again. The Song dips in waves, begging for the truth. “Why wouldn’t you Sing?”

And something in Hugo just snaps.

“Because I was scared to!” he finally spits out. It’s like pulling teeth. “I was scared, is that what you want to hear?”

Varian pulls back in surprise—they’d been mostly quiet until now, so Hugo’s voice seems unbearably loud. “Scared?” he breathes. It’s obvious that he’s asking Hugo for clarification but Hugo’s on a roll now, and that truth that had pressed against the back of his teeth is finally free. There’s no shoving it back down.

“I was scared of what you might hear.” Hugo’s voice cracks. “Varian, all my life I heard you. Your kindness, your empathy, your… everything. All the reasons that I—that prove you’re a good person. And that made me scared to Sing, because I couldn’t bear the thought of someone like you having to hear someone like me.”

“Hugo—”

“Varian.”

Shame washes over Hugo in a boiling wave. He has to suck in a breath through his nose to keep the pressure behind his eyes from spilling over and down his cheeks. If he cries he might just fall apart entirely. He has to keep himself together because how dare he feel upset when Varian’s finally found who’s to blame for his suffering in silence, all these years? And to know it’s because Hugo’s nothing but a coward—

A pair of hands gently take hold of his cheeks and tilts his head. Hugo winces, ready for Varian to shake him; the press of lips against his is a surprise for sure. He leans into it immediately, bringing his own hands up to cup Varian’s cheek in turn. Don’t leave me, his actions say, not like everyone else. He couldn’t bear it.

Varian breaks the kiss all too soon—but when he pulls back he’s smiling through the tears in his eyes. “I want you to know one thing,” he murmurs, “just one. Hugo, I have never once thought you were a bad person.”

Hugo laughs. His face is wet. “You don’t know me. Not really.”

Varian’s grin only grows. “I do,” he says. He brings their foreheads together so that their breaths mingle. “I hear you. And I, for one, like what I hear. I like it a lot, Hugo.”

Hugo leans into the touch: it’s so warm, like a comforting fire. He’ll gladly burn.

“Run away with me?” he asks again. It’s desperate, pleading. Please, it says, I can’t lose you. Not now, when we’ve just found each other. He knows what waits for them if they don’t get out, knows what waits for Varian the longer they stay. The Day of Hearts is only two days away—the sword of Damocles swings ever closer with every pass.

Varian huffs a laugh. He leans over, resting his head against Hugo’s shoulder. His arms wind around Hugo’s torso, hugging tightly. He sucks in a long breath through his nose; the Song twitters with thought, with the chaos incarnate that Varian always has when he’s wrapped up in ideas. His noses presses into Hugo’s shoulder, and he finally gives Hugo his answer.

“Okay,” he says. “But give me tomorrow. I need to talk to Rapunzel; she might have a way out for us.”

“And if that doesn’t work?”

Varian tilts his head and presses a kiss to Hugo’s jaw.

“Then we’ll run,” he says, “and I’ll show you how to make things grow.”

((TL/DR Landis shows up drunk and tries to proposition Varian and doesn't take no for an answer. Varian brains him with the scales Hugo had requested from the alchemy shop in chapter eight, and then runs like hell.))

#Varigo #varian #vat7k #varian and the seven kingdoms #silent opera #fic #OHHHH SHIT HERE WE GO

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ericfruits · 5 years ago

Text

Reinstatement Denied After Murder Conviction

A recent unpublished opinion of the California State Bar Court Review Department affirms the denial of reinstatement to an attorney convicted of a murder shortly after his 1980 admission to practice

Petitioner Stephen Liebb requests review of a hearing judge’s decision denying his reinstatement to the practice of law. In 1981, Liebb viciously attacked and killed his college friend, and violently beat the victim’s brother and another family friend. In January 1983, he was convicted of first-degree murder and assault with a deadly weapon. Liebb was sentenced to 26-years-to-life in prison. He was released on parole in October 2013, after serving 31 years of his sentence, and remained on supervised release until November 2016. Nine months later, Liebb filed his petition for reinstatement. The hearing judge found that, given the seriousness of the crimes, Liebb did not demonstrate a sustained period of exemplary conduct during the 16 months between termination of his supervised release and the hearing on his petition for reinstatement. The judge denied his petition. Liebb asserts that the judge improperly focused only on the time after his discharge from supervised release, and that his time in prison, where he engaged in positive programming activities, should be given more weight. The Office of Chief Trial Counsel of the State Bar (OCTC) requests that we affirm the hearing judge’s decision.

We have independently reviewed the record (Cal. Rules of Court, rule 9.12), and find that the hearing judge’s opinion fairly and accurately details the facts and correctly applies the governing law. We focus our analysis on the key issue on review: Did Liebb present overwhelming proof of his rehabilitation by a sustained period of exemplary conduct following his discharge from supervised release? Like the hearing judge, we find that he did not.

The attorney was admitted in 1980 after graduating from UCLA Law School.

The crime involved an apartment he had sublet to the notorious Dr. Eugene Landy, best known f or his "treatment" of Beach Boy Brian Wilson.

In February 1981, Liebb rented apartment number 103 at Diller Apartments to Dr. Eugene Landy without informing Stanley or Altschuler. Liebb collected six months’ rent in advance, gave Dr. Landy a receipt that he signed as “Stephen Claymore,” and told Dr. Landy that he was a professional boxer. Liebb never provided Altschuler or Stanley with the rent he collected. Altschuler believed the apartment was empty.

On March 31, 1981, Liebb charged into Altschuler’s office, causing a commotion and repeatedly insulting Altschuler. Joe Gold, a friend of the Diller family, was also at the office. As Liebb was leaving the office, he angrily said to Gold, “You want it next?” Altschuler told Gold not to respond and Gold stopped talking to Liebb and resumed working. When Gold went to the elevators in the hall, Liebb came out of the office lobby area and started to threaten and swing at him. Liebb chased Gold back into the lobby area, struck him hard on the side of the head, put his hands around Gold’s neck, and pushed him toward the door of the waiting room with great force. Several people attempted to pull Liebb away from Gold before Liebb fled the premises. After Gold filed a police report, Liebb called him on three occasions to try to talk him into withdrawing his complaint. Gold eventually dropped the charges.

At the end of April 1981, Liebb vacated his apartment. Altschuler found the apartment badly damaged—with chairs turned over, windows broken, stains on the floor, and filthy sinks and fixtures.

Gold assumed management and

At about 7:00 p.m. on May 11, 1981, Gold, Michael, and Michael’s brother, Arthur, left Diller Apartments. As they were leaving, Liebb jumped out of the bushes, and charged up the front stairs carrying a baseball bat. He attacked Gold with the bat, hitting him 15 times over his head and body. As Arthur tried to intervene, Liebb hit him on the thigh and shoulders several times. Gold was seriously injured and filed a police report against Liebb.

Michael and Arthur’s mother, Dorothy, telephoned Liebb’s father in Brooklyn, told him about the attack, and asked him to come to California to help with the situation. On July 9, 1981, Liebb repeatedly called Dorothy and threatened to kill the entire Diller family if she did not call his parents and retract what she had said. Dorothy refused. After speaking with Dorothy, Arthur decided to talk to Liebb the next morning.

On July 10, Arthur went to Liebb’s apartment building and confronted him. They traded blows, and Liebb hit Arthur with a pipe, breaking his nose and causing injuries that required stitches on his face.

Then

Two days later, on July 12, Liebb hid behind a tree and waited for Michael to pick up his girlfriend, Jody Popkin, from her apartment building. Liebb was wearing a motorcycle helmet with a tinted shield that covered his face, and carrying a knife he had recently purchased. When Michael arrived, Popkin opened the passenger side door and entered the vehicle. Liebb ran up, grabbed the door before she could close it, and jumped onto Popkin. Liebb hit her and then began to attack Michael. Michael accelerated the car, and Liebb grabbed the steering wheel, causing the car to crash into a building. After the crash, Michael jumped out of the driver’s side and ran toward a park. Liebb chased Michael to the park office, where Michael dove through a half-open window. Liebb lay across the window sill, holding the knife. Michael grabbed the knife and cut his own hand. He pleaded with Liebb to stop, but Liebb stabbed Michael in the chest, and twisted the blade. As Michael lay mortally injured, Liebb walked calmly away and then left the scene on his motorcycle. Michael died shortly thereafter from loss of blood and a stab wound through his lung and heart. He was 23 years old. Liebb admitted that his murder was premeditated.

After conviction

In March of 1989, Liebb was involved in a prison fight with another inmate. A Rules Violation Report indicated that Liebb continued to attack the inmate after being ordered to stop and after the other man stopped fighting. An investigation into the attack determined that it was reasonable to conclude that Liebb had engaged in the fight as a diversion from the murder of another inmate that occurred the same day, in which he was suspected of being a co-conspirator.

Liebb was considered for and found unsuitable for parole six times. Each time, the Board of Parole Hearings (the Board) found that Liebb would pose an unreasonable risk of danger to society and a threat to public safety if released from prison.

Eventually

in 2012, the Board granted Liebb parole based on his demonstration of remorse at the hearing, his identification of character defects that negatively influenced his behavior in the past, a positive risk assessment report, his positive programming while in prison, and his 21-year history without discipline. In January 2013, the Governor exercised his discretion to reverse the grant of parole, based on the especially atrocious and cruel offense and on Liebb’s lack of insight. Liebb challenged this finding by filing a writ of habeas corpus. On August 22, the Los Angeles Superior Court granted the habeas petition and vacated the Governor’s decision. Liebb was released from San Quentin on October 30, 2013.

Liebb complied with his parole until he was discharged from supervised release on November 15, 2016.

The nature of the offense placed a heavy burden on petitioner that he failed to meet

Liebb asserts that the hearing judge wrongly focused on the period of exemplary conduct after his supervised release ended and argues that more weight should be given to his positive programming in prison and during parole. However, the judge correctly focused on the time following Liebb’s discharge from supervised release and determined that the less than two years between his discharge and his reinstatement hearing was insufficient to make the required showing of rehabilitation...

As the hearing judge found, Liebb has made strides toward showing his rehabilitation. Much of his work in prison involved self-help activities and groups. After release from prison, he engaged in additional self-help programs, as well as therapy. However, these activities alone do not demonstrate truly exemplary conduct in the sense of returning something to the community Liebb harmed. As such, they are somewhat minimized because they contribute substantially to his personal well-being instead of paying back the community he harmed...

Also, while the hearing judge found that Liebb demonstrated remorse for his crimes and his victims, remorse alone does not demonstrate rehabilitation. A truer indication of Liebb’s rehabilitation will be if he can demonstrate exemplary conduct over an extended period of time that establishes his moral fitness to practice law

https://lawprofessors.typepad.com/legal_profession/2019/08/a-recent-unpublished-opinion-of-the-california-state-bar-court-petitioner-stephen-liebb-requests-review-of-a-hearing-judge.html

#IFTTT #Feedly

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