My version of Disney's "Tangled"

Pwincess and Eugene<3

It is something that begun even long before she realized it had.

He always was the good one at remaining hidden; observing others but not being seen himself.

In her mind she had wondered about him but only a little. Wondering too much seemed impolite in a certain space construct of a pondering mind and an anticipatory acquaintance.

 He wasn’t the brown haired and blue eyed rogue, the stern faced and well poised member of nobility that was a big deal because of the obvious. He was just him, in a sophisticated simplicity. The less than prosaic intrigue.  Eugene. That was his name; at least that was the name she gave him.

Had she known he would be there, she would have lived that day differently. She didn’t know what that entailed exactly, only that she knew it would have been completely different.

All she remembered being at that time was the young human still yearning for the world outside her tower that she had been lovingly guarded in, to be discovered. It was the proverbial excitement of actually singing in front of the crowd for the first time; the closest she ever got to all the artistic sentiments that were deeply embedded within her inner self. The perfect musical metaphor.

She was oblivious to his presence with great intention. It was a matter of propriety and being polite. It was one of the things you do or don’t because otherwise it would be considered an impertinence. He was there but the act of not acknowledging it was a crucial element of an invisible culture. He was this other existence that you just couldn’t wonder about in a common way.

 He wasn’t the one to take initiative in societal practice. In a normal way, that was too mundane. He was above that mediocrity. He was independent of the rest of the world. That made him supreme and her, insubordinate.

She just always wondered what he thought of her tom boyish outfit; the blue stripped shirt and the boy like sneakers; her weak and subtle personality traits that were drowned by the Switchfoot wannabe vibe.

The thing is, he saw her distinctly; he heard her succinctly.

His curiosity about her had only begun but had as well been partially saturated. He saw her, but wondered what she was truly like. There she was boyish and all, clumsy in a complicated way. He knew he wanted to get to know this unknowing uncommon commoner.

It was a sabbatical sort of time; the first she ever had, that had mostly been spent in lands she felt like a refugee in. It is no wonder that she was especially eager to spend time in the black-halled chamber where melodies echoed through time.

She spent a lot of time among the diversities; the city sounds, market smells and found herself dreaming out loud; with her voice and with words.

 Then one random day, she decided an ordinary salutation was in order. He cordially answered and commented about the weather. The cameras rolled and someone screamed, “action.”

Once upon a time, there was a girl. She dreamed, and that was her gift. She dreamed when her eyes were open and when they were closed. She dreamed with her mouth and dreamed with her hands. She dreamed that some day she would be free to wander outside the tower she had lovingly been preserved in for all of the life she had known- and that day came.

She unintentionally wandered into a familiar place in a familiar area with nothing familiar in mind to do really, just that hope that familiarity would provide what to actually do for that time she so desired; the meantime. Through the brown door that guarded the darkly painted walls, she walked, all in hand and in mind being a curiosity to what the plan and design of life was. It resounded louder and later that day. Perhaps it was what beckoned her into that place.

She casually said hello to those that she found in that dark walled musical chamber that sung with the knowledge of a something that she continually thought about, as it rung within the narrow confinement that she sat in.

Eventually she found herself in conversation with a familiar face over a familiar story; something childish and carefree. It was a story about a blue headed man who wanted to fit in the world. As she threw her head back in laughter and held her sides, she opened her eyes to the knowledge of another smiling face adjacent to her. He too knew the story of the blue headed man; childish, carefree and all.

So they laughed the evening away, throwing their heads back in laughter and holding their sides until their minds wandered to the same place, and questions about another story filled their thoughts. He wondered if she would heal him if he ever was injured and she wondered about his fake name that he propped about.

 All at once in synchronization, she brought her eyes in inquisition to his that were already searching for the questions he sought in hers as well.

 He asked, “Does your hair glow when you sing?” She answered, “No” with a subtle grin across her face. He smiled in satisfaction with the answer she had gotten.

After a sufficient pause she let out the gist of her wandering mind. She asked, “Are you a thief?” eyes attentive to reading the answer straight from his focused eyes and yet to move lips. He sighed and replied with a smile, “Doesn’t your heart still beat within you?”

 She nodded in affirmation and confirmation to the reply she had received. As soon as her back was turned to him, her mouth spread out into a wide smile and her eyes sparkled with joy.

He watched her in the direction as she walked away into the horizon as he prayed the shrieks of excitement in his heart were not too loud for her to hear.

It had been determined by either party. She knew that he contemplated stealing her heart and he knew that she was willing to promise captivity if that was what would save him.