Author Note: First time writing fanfiction-driven by how much I love this movie :) What I would like to do is to describe the movie through the words of Eugene and have his children add in various comments of interest :D
Soli Deo Gloria
Disclaimer: I do not own Tangled or any of its characters, including Flynn/Eugene and Rapunzel. Disney owns them instead, and I only own the characters of the children.
The Prince Consort of Corona raced down the sun-filled hallway, a giggling, brown-haired five year-old attached to his back. She had her arms linked tightly around his neck, which was probably the reason he had started to slow down despite her urgings to go faster. Even as her ride turned a corner, the little girl glanced around and waved enthusiastically at her grandfather's butler, Ferdinand.
Ferdinand smiled and waved back, commenting to the guard beside him, "Looks like the weekend's here."
"Looks like it." The guard replied, smiling as the girl's shouts echoed in the next corridor.
Eugene ran forward and entered a large, spacious chamber dedicated to the entertainment of Corona's royal children. Stumbling to a halt, the human racehorse—or dragon, he had forgotten halfway through the game what his daughter had called him—dropped onto his knees and keeled over, panting.
The girl tumbled safely off him onto the carpet, her high-pitched laughter echoing about the high ceiling.
"That was fun! Let's do it again!" She said, immediately jumping up and tugging on her father's arms.
"Ginger-snap," Eugene said, wearily getting to his feet, "I think that it's time we do something a little less strenuous."
"Dad, she doesn't know what 'strenuous' means." His eldest daughter said, not taking an eye off the book she was reading.
"Yes, well your brother doesn't know what 'annoying' means either but you've used it plenty of times in the past week." Eugene looked over at his daughter and frowned, "What are you reading anyway? You don't have any lessons with the tutor on Saturday."
"Just a story, Dad."
"A story? Ooo! I want to read a story too, Daddy! Daddy, read me a story." Ginger, or Ginger-snap as her father affectionately called her, turned her big, emerald green eyes upon him pleadingly.
Eugene sighed, "Great, now you've given her another idea."
"At least it doesn't involve you being Maximus."
"Oh—so that's why she kept saying 'giddy-up'. I knew she didn't say dragon."
"Dragons are way cooler than horses." The tousled head of the crown prince of Corona popped out of a toy box he had currently been searching through.
Eugene looked at his six year-old son in mild surprise, "Ah, there you are. I was beginning to wonder if Annabelle had kicked you out of the room."
"She couldn't catch me." His son said, flashing him a toothy grin before plunging back into the toy box and throwing out a stuffed bear and a rather beaten-up frying pan.
His father frowned as he leaned down to pick up the frying pan, "Why on earth is this in here?"
Eugene looked at the girl hanging onto his hand, once again marveling at how green her eyes were. "Yes dear?"
"Tell me a story pul-ease!"
"Wow your eyes are just like your mother's, do you know that?" When she did nothing more than pout at him, the prince consort sighed and took a seat in front of a couch littered with stuffed animals and books. He leaned his back onto the cushions, glancing over at his son.
"Thomas, are you busy?"
The boy, having found what he had been searching for, looked up guiltily from where he had been aiming his slingshot at one of the windows. Eugene narrowed his eyes in a silent warning, and his son quickly trotted over to sit next to his father.
"Better," Eugene said, ruffling his son's dark hair. "You need a haircut."
"Mom said she'd get the court barber to cut it this afternoon." Thomas replied, sounding slightly resentful about the whole affair.
"Yes, well your mom could tell you a thing or two about haircuts." Eugene muttered, even as another plea for a story came from his youngest child.
"Dad, are you going to tell her a story or what?" Annabelle demanded, looking at him in a way that seemed suspiciously like his wife's most exasperated glare.
"All right, all right. I'll tell you the best story in my arsenal."
"Is it another Flynnigan Rider story?" Thomas asked excitedly.
"Yes and no. It includes a Flynnigan Rider, but you won't find it in any book, and you won't hear it from anyone who wasn't there to see it happen."
Annabelle sighed, "Not that story again."
"Oh hush," Eugene said impatiently. "You may have heard it before but your sister hasn't—and your brother falls asleep every time so he doesn't know the ending yet, either."
"You practically told it to me every night." Annabelle responded.
"Only when you were sick, if I recall. But you don't have to listen to it."
"Okay, I won't." She returned to her book, letting out a faint sniff of disapproval.
Eugene turned to his youngest daughter, "All right, Ginger-snap, get ready for the greatest story you've ever heard."
"What about Annie?" Ginger asked, clambering into her father's lap.
Eugene looked at Annabelle. She was sitting quite stiffly, her long, carefully-brushed hair arranged tidily across her shoulders while her unwrinkled skirt fanned out delicately over her bare feet. Oftentimes he thought she resembled her grandmother more than she resembled himself or his wife. Annabelle had gotten to be so regal and serious since her eleventh birthday. He could remember a time when she had shouted and yelled and giggled through every waking hour, and even into the night. Now, however, her interests had changed. Part of growing up, he guessed.
"Well, if your sister decides to come and listen, we won't stop her."
"But she's so boring." Thomas groaned, testing his slingshot with a thumb.
His father's brow wrinkled. "Thomas, what did I tell you about that word?"
"Don't use it for anyone but Tutor Reynolds."
"Exactly." Eugene smirked to himself and cast one last glance at Annabelle before starting.
"This," he paused for dramatic affect, "is the story of how I died…"