A/N: So I'm currently madly in love with Tangled...

Storms of Life

Electricity crackled angrily and rain spattered madly against the large windowpanes as lightning flashes illuminated Rapunzel's bedchamber in its eerie light. Booms of thunder shook the fancy chandelier that hung from the twenty-foot ceiling and rattled the mahogany-carved, canopy bedframe.

In the center of the huge feather-stuffed mattress, huddled under the thick covers, Rapunzel trembled as another strike of thunder caused the floor to shudder. Nestled into her shoulder, just beneath the tickling ends of her cropped brown hair, Pascal squeaked with fright.

Curled tightly into a ball, Rapunzel buried her face further into the satin pillow, desperately trying to draw comfort from it. Patches of damp stained the luxurious material, and muffled sobs shook her whole frame.

This storm had begun late in the afternoon, dark clouds boiling upon the horizon, ominous. Although Rapunzel's mother and hand-maidens had assured her of its harmlessness, the weather had continued to worsen.

Now, at almost two in the morning, the elements battled viciously outside her palace home, and all Rapunzel could think about was the storm that had plagued the land the day that her Mother Gothel had died.

Although the storm had a brief reprieve for about half an hour after her tear had saved Eugene, the heavens had quickly opened up again, and the terrible weather had forced them to remain in the tower until it blew over. Trapped temporarily—they holed themselves up in Rapunzel's room as rain battered the windows and the wind howled. The haunting sounds reminded Rapunzel of her mother's dying screams—and even with Eugene snoring in the armchair beside her bed, she hardly slept. Her view of the world had been torn asunder, and everything she had previously known was shattered into thousands of glittering pieces, like the mirror lying in shambles on the cold wooden floor downstairs. That night was the worst of Rapunzel's life.

Now, in the spacious and lavishly decorated bedchamber that was her new tower, Rapunzel quivered, wondering how she could ever find solace and healing in a place so like the one she had left behind.

After a particularly terrifying series of thunder strikes, Rapunzel threw back her covers in desperation and leapt out of bed, causing Pascal to squeal as he clung to the sleeve of her silk nightdress. Rushing to the heavy wooden door, she wrenched at the brass handle and pulled it open, fleeing into the corridor as another bolt of lightning flashed—casting every corner into sharp and unyielding shadow.

Flying down the ornate hallway with her nightgown streaming through the air behind her like a ghost-trail, Rapunzel bolted to a small door set beneath a marble arch, twisting the handle and shoving it open, rushing down a narrow, dimly lit stone stairway to the lower lever: the servant dormitories.

Counting the doors on the left as she passed them at a dead run, Rapunzel finally found the one she was looking for: room four zero eight, Eugene's quarters. Although the King and Queen had insisted on granting him a bedchamber of greater honor, after one night in the extravagant room, the former thief had pleaded to be allowed a room of more modest and (as he put it) less creepy accommodations. So four oh eight had become his designation, being the only servants' quarters that was available on the floor nearest to Rapunzel. For that, she was grateful.

Gasping for breath and thoroughly frightened out of her wits, Rapunzel knocked frantically on the doorframe, praying that he would wake up and take her away from the tower once more.

The door swung inward a few moments later, and a sleepy-eyed Eugene with a ruffled nightshirt and even more ruffled hair poked his head out, blinking.

Rapunzel stood there, blinking back at him, the tears still flowing freely down her terrified and guilt-ridden face, upset with herself for needing him at so ungodly an hour.

"Blon—die…?" he managed, a yawn breaking up the pet name into more pronounced syllables. He rubbed at his eye with the heel of his hand, and, his eyes cleared of sleep, noticed her expression for the first time.

"Hey," Eugene murmured tenderly, reaching to take her hand in his. "What's wrong?"

Rapunzel melted then. Folding into him, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and sobbed. Pascal, recovering from being dragged through the night, tucked himself under her chin, his skin a pallid blue color.

"Sshh," Eugene soothed, drawing the princess into the room with an arm around her waist. Softly, he closed the door behind them, and stood, his arms pulled tight around her, allowing peace to seep into her mind like warmth into her shivering frame.

After what seemed like ages, she finally pulled back, sniffling. Bracing her hands on his shoulders, she gazed at him with red-rimmed eyes.

"It's the storm, isn't it," he said. It wasn't a question.

Rapunzel nodded wordlessly, swallowing around the lump in her throat.

"Well," Eugene replied quietly, "I know it technically isn't proper for a princess to spend the night in the quarters of her soon-to-be fiancé, but I'm sure your esteemed parents can excuse us this one time."

Rapunzel blinked, bewildered. "Soon-to-be fiancé…?"

Instead of replying, Eugene led her by the elbow to the cot in the corner. "Here," he said, "You take the bed. I'll take the floor tonight."

"Eugene," Rapunzel said more firmly, "Soon to be fiancé…?"

"Shh," he took her softly by the shoulders and eased her onto the bed, which was still warm from his body heat. Pascal crawled from her shoulder and curled up on the small sackcloth pillow, and Eugene encouraged Rapunzel to lie down as well. Pulling the coarse cotton covers up to her chin, he tucked them in beneath the straw mattress. Then he moved to the chest at the end of his bed and retrieved another blanket, which he spread on the floor.

By that time, Rapunzel was upright once more. "Eugene," she murmured.

This time, he met her gaze. "Mm?"

"The floor must be cold. Won't you sleep on the bed too? I think there's room enough."

This caught Eugene off guard. He glanced at the floor, then back at her. His brow furrowed, and he glanced again at the floor. "Well," he said finally, meeting her emerald eyes once more, "I suppose it can't hurt."

Rapunzel settled down once more, Pascal curled up against her neck. Eugene rested a knee on the mattress at the foot of the bed, and climbed over Rapunzel's feet, so he could lay on the side of the bed closest to the wall. She wriggled over to make room for him as he slid under the covers, but as soon as he was settled, he curled an arm over her waist. Rapunzel shifted closer, and turned her face toward his.

"Thank you," she murmured, yawning. "Thank you for bringing me out of that tower."

The corners of his lips turned up in a grin, and he kissed her nose. "You did that yourself, Blondie. I was just along for the ride."

Rapunzel smiled and snuggled closer, closing her eyes. Down here, she could barely hear the storm.

Eugene shifted forward to whisper in her ear. "The storms will always come, Rapunzel. Let them come. I will be here to battle them with you."