note: I wrote this before the tv series came out so the Queen's personality may be different from how it is portrayed in canon.

A Dung-heap Carter

"I keep getting lifelines I don't deserve," he muttered sullenly through his arms, which were pillowed about him as he leaned on the fancy wooden desk in the Queen's study. Of the royal family, it was just the two of them in there - and in the entire castle as well because the King was out on a city inspection and Rapunzel had opted to accompany him for some "bonding time with dad".

The Queen was seated behind the desk, opposite to Eugene, and was reading through a fan of papers. She didn't look up when she responded with a "Then you work hard to deserve them, Mister Fitzherbert." To an outsider it would have looked like she was ignoring him. The truth was that she was just used to these moods of his.

"But I can't," he whined. "I will never deserve them. I used to think I did but I've had an epiphany."

"And this life-changing epiphany was what, exactly?"

"That I am scum."

A pause. A flick of a page. And then: "You are hardly scum, Mister Fitzherbert."

"I must respectfully disagree, your Majesty. I am scum and I do not deserve your daughter," he went on as if no pause had occurred, and sighed dramatically, dropping his face into the circle of his arms. "You may take up your right to kick me out of the castle now," he said, voice muffled.

"What if I did?" she asked perfunctorily. "Where would you live? What would you do?"

At this he raised his head again, mused aloud as if the thought intrigued him: "I think I'll become a dung-heap carter."

The Queen looked up. "A what?"

"A dung-heap carter. You know. The guy who carts away all the animal shi—waste," he hastily corrected himself at the sight of her raised eyebrows, "all the animal waste that piles up in the market and the stables and all those other places where animals are kept."

"A dung-heap carter," she said slowly.

"Yes."

The Queen made a noise that could have been a snort, except that she was The Queen and The Queen was supposedly too well-bred to snort. "Not that my intention is to inflate your ego, Mister Fitzherbert, but that would be such a waste. You have talents, you know."

"I'll be the most gorgeous dung-heap carter to have ever lived," he announced, getting up suddenly to pace the length of the room. "The best in Corona. You will hear my name from every corner of the country: Eugene Fitzherbert, the Master of Dung-heaps, the Face of the waste disposal industry...!" He whirled around, teeth bared in a wild grin.

She laughed, the sound a pleasant titter, and put the papers down on her desk so that she could appraise him. "You are interrupting important work, Mister Fitzherbert," she said, hands folded neatly on top of the desk. "I hope you are aware of that."

"Alas, but I am. Scum of the earth, remember? We never do anything helpful."

"What do you want, Eugene," she asked, for that was - after all - what he had been trying to get at.

"To not be bored, your majesty."

"Shall I find you something useful to do?"

"That would be wonderful."

She did not believe for a second that he had nothing to do, but she decided to humor him anyway. It wasn't always that he volunteered himself for work. She reached for a page from a nearby stack and read off the first line. "There is an issue with the stables that needs to be mediated—" A groan from his direction caused her to look at him again, expression going unamused. "Here I thought you would want a job that had something to do with your future profession."

"I would rather be a dung-heap carter right now than work with Gerth," Eugene said flatly, naming the man in charge of the horses. "He hates me."

"Make an effort to make him not hate you then."

"The man hates everyone."

"He seems courteous enough to me."

"Everyone who isn't part of the Royal Family."

"Need I remind you of your pending change in status?"

"Doesn't matter," Eugene said with a little more energy than necessary. "To him and a surprising number of people, it seems that I will always just be That Guy who Married the Princess." He slumped back noisily against the chair.

The Queen gave him an appraising look, saying slowly, "And that is what is truly bothering you."

He favored looking at the toes of his well-worn boots over returning the penetrating stare that Rapunzel had inherited. "Maybe."

"Eugene..."

"I know I shouldn't let it bother me. I knew I would have to deal with the... attention - lack thereof, really - sooner or later. Trust me, I was mentally prepared!" He sunk so low that his head seemed fused to his shoulders. "It's a little different experiencing it firsthand."

The Queen hummed. "You have chosen to fill a very unique position."

"As the new court jester?" he deadpanned.

"If you want me to help you out of this silly dilemma, Eugene, you will have to exercise some restraint on that sarcasm."

"Silly, she says!"

"Extremely. And insulting as well."

"Really? How so?"

"This princess you intend to marry happens to be my daughter."

"Ah. That she is." A contemplative pause. "Sorry."

The Queen allowed herself a smile of amusement because this man in his mid-twenties sat before her in exactly the same way an irate 10-year-old nephew had when the child had been denied sweets. His arms were crossed tightly into his chest, his chin dug a furrow into the front of his shirt, and his shoulders were raised so high that the pads on his decorative vest nearly covered his ears. To top it all off, the big issue he was grumpy over was...

"So you are upset because nobody is taking you seriously."

His eyes widened a split second before his entire posture straightened in an explosion of movement.

"What? No! That's - you make it sound like I am starved for attention or something! As if I ever could be! Everybody knew my name even before I got involved with your family, thank you very much!"

"Many people knew of Flynn Rider. Eugene Fitzherbert, though, may be a different story."

The Queen steepled her fingers under her chin. She watched him fumble with words and wring his hands as he tried to find something to say. He simmered down gradually, and she assumed that his head had finally caught up with his ego.

She knew the gossip, of course. One had to stay abreast of such things in order to survive as a public figure.

"Let them talk. There's nothing we can do about that."

He grumbled in agreement.

"Meanwhile, let us get some work done, hm?"

He grumbled again.

"How agreeable you are." She chuckled, rising from her chair. "Let us make our way to the stables then."

"The Gerth thing again?" Eugene groaned, though he too stood up and followed her out. "I told you, the man hates me."

"Opinions can be changed," hummed the Queen. "You don't have to do much. Just observe how I work for the next few days."

"The next few?"

"The Queen glanced at him from over her shoulder. "You wanted to not be bored and you wanted to be useful, yes? Let's see how you fair as my assistant."

He blinked at her. "Just like that?"

"Why not?"

He went silent for a while, contemplative. The Queen smiled and turned at a corner.

"Besides, I would say this is a better use for you than shoveling horse shit all day."

Eugene made two noises of surprise, one before he missed the corner and the next after he walked face-first into the wall. The Queen carried on as if she had not noticed and if she covered her mouth for a brief moment to smile, well, that could have been caused by a number of other things, couldn't it?

end

Thanks for reading! You can catch me on castlestormed on tumblr for shorter pieces.