Alive.

Alive, facing up to a pearly, iridescent sky, and that wasn't the only thing that was so much brighter than a few minutes ago.

Alive, and receiving kisses that it wasn't that he hadn't anticipated but hadn't worked out exactly how he was going to broach the subject again. And before long he gets round to participating, once he'd got over the surprise of the subject being thoroughly broached on his behalf (for if at first there was a little over-enthusiasm, she was quite happy to be shown how to put her efforts to best use for both of them.)

Alive, and yet a completely different life. For a start, it seemed that there was now a wife in it.

More kissing- her breathing has settled now- or at least, he can feel through her back that the spasm and flutter of tears has gone entirely, and the movement is deep, though it's getting faster. Unless that's him- if there's one thing he's aware of, apart from the sunlight and Rapunzel- and the taste and warmth of her and the sound of her sighing and the way she's gripping him like she might fall off the world are taking up most of his attention- it's the fact that he can feel every pulse he knew he had and a few that he didn't getting faster- harder- with every moment- the rush of restored life isn't fading but rising.

It's not anything of the usual lust either, not the obvious heat at the sight of a well-made backside or shapely lips, nor the occasional impulse to lose his mind in a soft and willing body- just that right at this moment there's too much relief and grief and love for the line between him and her to have any meaning, so it seems perfectly right to rub it out completely. And seeing that now that they've rolled over so that he's on top of her again, it does seem enough for now that now both of their whole worlds have been ripped down in steel and blood and reborn in sacred sunlight, and now that he's unshackled her from the magic that's filling him to the fingertips and almost ready to burst, that seems more married than mere laws could make anybody.

It was only when his left hand tried to caress her and there was a nasty tug on his shoulder and a clunking noise that a number of things occurred to Eugene.

"Um." He pulled back and got enough breath to say: "I'm chained to the stairs."

"Oh. Y-yes. Oh. So you are."

Then the second thing.

"Rapunzel, the chameleon's watching."

"Oh. So he is. But you got his species right this time."

"Of course I knew he's a chameleon. It's obvious."

What is also fast becoming obvious is that it's really amazing just how withering a look a chameleon can give. (Does he know that? Does it even apply to lizards? Not that trying to remember if he's ever known anything about reptilian anatomy helps matters.)

He wonders if it's the fact of a new life, or because it's her, or whether Flynn Rider even in his previous life would never have been able to do it with a chameleon watching. He may well never know. This smoulder is rapidly fizzling out.

She presses her lips under his chin this time, under the angle of his jaw, but he can't un-notice that he's cuffed to a wall, and while he's aware that some men like something like that (some women too, for that matter) it's never been his thing, even if it weren't in earnest. (Nor women in them, either. Cuffs and chains were kind of a work thing, really un-erotic.)

And that's when the next thing occurs to him.

"Rapunzel… where's the key?"

"I- oh…" Rapunzel turns over, and gets up with an unusual lack of grace, as if her springy limbs are not as attentive as usual- hands and knees to hands and feet, then standing, taking a faltering step and tripping over her own hair- something which, against all logic, she never did when it was attached to her.

She reaches up a shaky hand and touched the raggedy edges- it's strange how different she looks without it- smaller, and yet somehow far more like a woman than the girl she had been. She makes another sound, more like a laugh than a sob.

"Look, I'm sorry-"

"Don't be! I'm not sorry at all! Oh my- I can't believe how un-sorry I am- I think I'm a bit-" she giggles again- "light-headed…"

"Hey, watch we're you're walking! There's broken glass everywhere."

"Oh. So there is." Rapunzel turns her head to look around, and wobbles wildly before staggering to balance again. "Wow, what a mess."

"Nothing a quick straighten-up and sweep wouldn't solve. Come on. Come here." Eugene shuffles nearer the stairs, where the length of the chain let him stand. "Come to me. That's it." He waits until she's in his arms again before he ventures- "Rapunzel, the key…"

Now she's not as giddy, not as she says, and it's audible that she's realised what it means:

"I think Mother took it… but… then… Mother-' She looks towards the open window.

No, so he didn't imagine it.

"I mean I know now there are stairs- I can go down, I'm sure it will be in her pocket, but…"

"Yeah."

"I think she must be dead."

"Very."

"No, I mean, even without the fall."

"Maybe- but certainly with it." But the fall surely must have left parts of Mother not meant to see the light of day splashed across a large area of that pretty river valley.

They sit on the stairs for a while- in fact Rapunzel sits on his lap, and he folds his body around her as if he could wrap her up safe from every misery that might threaten her. It's only then that Pascal runs up his leg with his tail gripping a small key that does indeed turn out to be the right one.

She becomes as relaxed as if she were asleep, though he can still see her blinking, and she takes a moment to she scoop Pascal off her lap and drop him onto her collarbone.

However long it goes on for, it's not long enough. After a night pacing round and round a cell, there's no rush to go anywhere or do anything. Not even making love, now. She's lost enough for one day.

Anyway, now that he has his wife- even if he hasn't had chance to tell a priest to make a note of it yet- he'll have to sort things out to be safe and reliable for her- and he could start with finding that priest to make everything clear and certain and let her be able to say to the world that her honour was unblemished, whatever his state of tarnish might be.

And then what? The whole business of the last three days has left him somewhat bereft of jewels, or anything else for that matter but the clothes he's sitting in. The tower doesn't look a bad home but it doesn't seem wise to stay long- not now that the palace have found where it is…

…well, Maximus knows where it is… but Maximus helped him escape. So maybe his assets include one highly valuable cavalry horse- though Max probably isn't open to being owned as such. Assuming he's still standing round outside, anyway.

Other than that, it's some household movables and seventy feet of mundane hair.

Not a bad price on hair, even these days, especially a couple of days' ride away over the Lourisea border. Do they need a middleman, even? How long does it take to learn how to make wigs?

Rapunzel raises her head.

She looks into his eyes with enough mingled joy and loss to greet the angel she's been awaiting for too long. He knows he's no such thing. All he can think of is to fall back on routine.

"Hi. How ya doin' there?"

"Good. Quite good. You're quiet."

"I don't know what I'm meant to say. Your mother just died."

"Yes she did. But… I know it might be the wrong time, but I'd just come to realise that she wasn't actually a very nice person."

"Oh, you worked it out, did you? Well, I hope you feel a lot less bad about your trip now."

"Much less bad. In fact, there's something I should tell you. She wasn't my mother. I realised last night: I'm the lost princess."

"Sorry, Rapunzel, I'm still a little addled here. It sounded like you just said you were the lost princess."

"I did."

"Yes, I thought that was what it was."

The lost princess.

She's eighteen. Or rather, she was eighteen, yesterday. On the princess' birthday and yes, the princess would be about that age. Unfeasible amount of golden hair. Been locked away here since before she can remember.

Of course she could be making a mistake.

Or it might be possible to convince her that she's made a mistake (she's trusted at least one liar all her life, after all.)

Alternatively, if they were married on the way back to the city- perhaps if things happened today that meant that they'd have to be married- then whatever happened, he'd be her husband and nobody would have the right to part them.

Well, that would be the sort of thing Flynn Rider might have done.

Eugene sighed.

"I guess we have another road trip ahead of us, then. Is there anything you really want to take from here?"