Rapunzel was in a pensive mood, and couldn't sleep. She knew that Alex was concerned about her since her encounter in Gotham, and she had to admit it had shaken her up
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She appreciates his being there, more than he could ever possibly know.
"I….I went a bit mad, then. It took three of my party to keep be from riding straight home. He’d said everyone in the castle; I thought that if any of them had gotten out, then I would find them--surely Adelric had been attending to duties in the village, or Baldur was off hunting or Jolenta was out riding? The messenger couldn’t look me in the eye, and I knew there was no hope.
After that, I just wanted vengeance. I wanted to charge in with any weapon I could find and take as many of them out as I could before they killed me, too. One of the men accompanying me actually slapped me across the face and threatened to knock me unconscious if I didn’t stop trying to commit such an act of suicide. They tied the reigns of my horse to another rider’s saddle so that I couldn’t ride off on my own, and they helped me flee."
She remembers how angry and betrayed she'd felt at the time. Without the kingdom, surely they weren't my subjects anymore. She had wanted to rage at them all, but she'd sat in her saddle in a state of silent rage and grief.
She bends and kisses Alex, then; she wants him to understand that what she felt then isn't what she's feeling now.
He gets it. And he can't quite see it. He can't see Rapunzel ever being so wild and savage and angry. it's not her. Another time, another world, another life.
He is, though, thankful that someone made sure she didn't do something stupid. That she somehow survived.
She takes a deep breath, strokes his hair and thinks back centuries.
"We traveled for a couple of days, though I hardly knew or cared where we were going. I was deeply immersed in my grief, and didn’t eat, speak or sleep the whole while. What did I care where we were going? I finally came to my senses a few days later, when we ran into another group fleeing from the kingdom we were skirting. We learned the invasion wasn’t just my kingdom, but several at once…and people were scattered and running around confused and frightened.
The group told us that they’d heard of safe passages to kingdoms where the Adversary hadn’t yet turned his gaze, and many were heading in that direction. I agreed to go that way too, and set my companions free from my service to go and find their own families, and to fare as best they could. They were torn between duty and family, and it took a direct order from me to make them finally leave. I joined a small band of peasants, and helped them carry their loads and tend their children in exchange for their company and sharing their food.
We encountered others in the weeks that followed, and the groups changed up here and there as plans and routes were altered. None of us knew where we were going, and no one knew who to believe."
"You did what a leader should, you know. You led them and at the same time were one of them. We never see that in this town." He might admit, if pressed, that he never thought about that part of her. But it's there, isn't it? The way that good leaders make everyone else better. The way she makes him better? Maybe. But he likes that.
“I did what I felt I had to do. I could see the worry in their eyes, and hear them murmuring their hopes for their families to each other around the campfires.
"Eventually we were captured and taken to a village, where we were put in a locked room in a tower to await the decision or orders of whoever was in charge at the time…which was just too much of a cruel irony for me; I went a little mad again, and laughed for hours over it. The poor women I was traveling with thought I was possessed, or something. When I cut off all my hair for us to use to climb out of there, they took off in a hurry, and didn’t offer to let me travel any further with them.”
There is humor in her voice as she says it…she’d even seen the grim humor in it, then.
“I traveled alone after that, for the most part. I got captured for a longer time a month or so later and was put to work on a chain gang. The soldiers would come and cut my hair off and take it away each day, when it’s length began to be a nuisance. I noticed within a month that many of the solders sported blond hair on their cursed wooden heads.”
And oh, how that had angered her! That any part of her should help the wooden army in their evil schemes.
"It was then that I determined to escape, or die trying."
"A lot of the soldiers were made of enchanted wood, and the Adversary was thought to be a powerful warlock or sorcerer."
She'd gotten a shock when she'd seen them again, centuries later, marching on Bullfinch Street.
"“I was lucky enough to get away when I dislocated my own thumb and was able to wriggle out of the shackles. I held onto the cuff as they marched us along, and then jumped into a haystack when we got close enough to one. It was just dumb luck that I wasn’t seen or one of the other prisoners didn’t give me away, or something.
Not too long after that, the little scene I relived the other day took place. I found people willing to help me flee to the mundy world, and I stayed in that fort until the last boat out. It was a frightening time, with huge armies threatening, and men sacrificing their own lives to give us a chance to escape. It was May, and bright and pleasant that day, and too horrible for words; we that were on that last boat all still meet on the anniversary of that day, to honor the people left behind.”
She sighs, relieved at finally purging it all from her system. There are more details, of course;
He pulls her as close as he can, and just thinks. He recalls the things he heard from relatives who got out of Europe ahead of the Nazis, or after. He remembers the things his dad said about combat in Korea. He wonders about how she managed to do what she needed to, and realizes that sometimes the only way to cope is to forget.
And he thinks, oddly, that he will never be able to watch the Laurel and Hardy "March of the Wooden Soldiers" again.
"I had my own quiet times on those days, and raised a glass by myself. It's the same for Remembrance Day every year...most Fables, no matter where they are, set aside some time to remember the homelands and the fallen, and raise a glass."
She strokes his hair and back as much for her own comfort and soothing as for his.
"When you've lived for so many years, it's not unusual to only think about such things when something triggers a memory, or on special days. We never forget who we are, or why we stay separate from the Mundy population, but we don't really think about the details of why that is."
"It's important to remember, so we don't fall into the same patterns and become careless."
She kisses him softly, appreciating his sentiment.
"And sharing is important, too. I think I didn't realize how much I hadn't, and just supposed you would ask, if you had questions. I think we've both been trying to spare each other sadness.
He thinks for a moment. "Yeah. I think it can be a little tough sometimes. I know that in my mother's family, we all tried never to talk about the Holocaust, and in my dad's family, we never talked about the brother he lost in Iwo Jima.
"But I like to ask questions. I should have asked questions. I guess...it's still never easy.
"Next May, though, if you want the company, we can do something as a memorial. Maybe plant another tree?"
"That's sweet of you. You know you can ask me any questions, any time. I love you, and I don't deliberately keep anything from you; it just doesn't occur to me to talk about it all that much. It's not exactly a subject that comes up all that often."
"I don't think it needs to be. But I still want to write that novel, if nothing else. And I want to get it right. The bad and the good." He pulls her face to his and kisses her.
She returns the kiss with feeling, and then rests her forehead against his.
"There was plenty of good and bad, and I'll be happy to help you with any details. You know the saying, the truth will make you free. I think now that I have it out of my system, so to speak, it will be easier to talk about it."
"The truth is always a good thing. And the truth, my dear, is that I love you. And I always will. And I will always be here for you." And it still startles him that he feels that strongly. But in a good way.
"I….I went a bit mad, then. It took three of my party to keep be from riding straight home. He’d said everyone in the castle; I thought that if any of them had gotten out, then I would find them--surely Adelric had been attending to duties in the village, or Baldur was off hunting or Jolenta was out riding? The messenger couldn’t look me in the eye, and I knew there was no hope.
After that, I just wanted vengeance. I wanted to charge in with any weapon I could find and take as many of them out as I could before they killed me, too. One of the men accompanying me actually slapped me across the face and threatened to knock me unconscious if I didn’t stop trying to commit such an act of suicide. They tied the reigns of my horse to another rider’s saddle so that I couldn’t ride off on my own, and they helped me flee."
She remembers how angry and betrayed she'd felt at the time. Without the kingdom, surely they weren't my subjects anymore. She had wanted to rage at them all, but she'd sat in her saddle in a state of silent rage and grief.
She bends and kisses Alex, then; she wants him to understand that what she felt then isn't what she's feeling now.
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He is, though, thankful that someone made sure she didn't do something stupid. That she somehow survived.
He strokes her hand softly. "Go on?"
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"We traveled for a couple of days, though I hardly knew or cared where we were going. I was deeply immersed in my grief, and didn’t eat, speak or sleep the whole while. What did I care where we were going? I finally came to my senses a few days later, when we ran into another group fleeing from the kingdom we were skirting. We learned the invasion wasn’t just my kingdom, but several at once…and people were scattered and running around confused and frightened.
The group told us that they’d heard of safe passages to kingdoms where the Adversary hadn’t yet turned his gaze, and many were heading in that direction. I agreed to go that way too, and set my companions free from my service to go and find their own families, and to fare as best they could. They were torn between duty and family, and it took a direct order from me to make them finally leave. I joined a small band of peasants, and helped them carry their loads and tend their children in exchange for their company and sharing their food.
We encountered others in the weeks that followed, and the groups changed up here and there as plans and routes were altered. None of us knew where we were going, and no one knew who to believe."
Reply
Reply
"Eventually we were captured and taken to a village, where we were put in a locked room in a tower to await the decision or orders of whoever was in charge at the time…which was just too much of a cruel irony for me; I went a little mad again, and laughed for hours over it. The poor women I was traveling with thought I was possessed, or something. When I cut off all my hair for us to use to climb out of there, they took off in a hurry, and didn’t offer to let me travel any further with them.”
There is humor in her voice as she says it…she’d even seen the grim humor in it, then.
“I traveled alone after that, for the most part. I got captured for a longer time a month or so later and was put to work on a chain gang. The soldiers would come and cut my hair off and take it away each day, when it’s length began to be a nuisance. I noticed within a month that many of the solders sported blond hair on their cursed wooden heads.”
And oh, how that had angered her! That any part of her should help the wooden army in their evil schemes.
"It was then that I determined to escape, or die trying."
Reply
Reply
She'd gotten a shock when she'd seen them again, centuries later, marching on Bullfinch Street.
"“I was lucky enough to get away when I dislocated my own thumb and was able to wriggle out of the shackles. I held onto the cuff as they marched us along, and then jumped into a haystack when we got close enough to one. It was just dumb luck that I wasn’t seen or one of the other prisoners didn’t give me away, or something.
Not too long after that, the little scene I relived the other day took place. I found people willing to help me flee to the mundy world, and I stayed in that fort until the last boat out. It was a frightening time, with huge armies threatening, and men sacrificing their own lives to give us a chance to escape. It was May, and bright and pleasant that day, and too horrible for words; we that were on that last boat all still meet on the anniversary of that day, to honor the people left behind.”
She sighs, relieved at finally purging it all from her system. There are more details, of course;
Reply
And he thinks, oddly, that he will never be able to watch the Laurel and Hardy "March of the Wooden Soldiers" again.
"Did you miss doing something the last two Mays?"
Reply
She strokes his hair and back as much for her own comfort and soothing as for his.
"When you've lived for so many years, it's not unusual to only think about such things when something triggers a memory, or on special days. We never forget who we are, or why we stay separate from the Mundy population, but we don't really think about the details of why that is."
Reply
Reply
She kisses him softly, appreciating his sentiment.
"And sharing is important, too. I think I didn't realize how much I hadn't, and just supposed you would ask, if you had questions. I think we've both been trying to spare each other sadness.
Reply
"But I like to ask questions. I should have asked questions. I guess...it's still never easy.
"Next May, though, if you want the company, we can do something as a memorial. Maybe plant another tree?"
Reply
Reply
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"There was plenty of good and bad, and I'll be happy to help you with any details. You know the saying, the truth will make you free. I think now that I have it out of my system, so to speak, it will be easier to talk about it."
Reply
He kisses her again, with a little more passion.
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