"If this word should turn out to be a 'Te moriturum saluto,' perhaps it will brighten the dark moments a little to think how you have meant to someone more than anything ever has or ever will. What you have striven for will not end in nothing, all that you have done and been will not be wasted, for it will be a part of me as long as I live, and I shall remember, always."
― Vera Brittain, Testament of Youth

Once upon a time, there was a princess who lived in a castle tower that touched the clouds with her parents and wicked nurse. She had the longest, most beautiful golden hair that went to her waist. Although nobody except for her and the evil nurse knew it, it had the ability to heal the sick and injured. All you had to do was a sing a special song to make it glow like the sun's light.

"One day, a handsome man showed up at the tower and saw for himself how beautiful the princess was. They fell in love and planned to run away together. The evil witch wanted to stop them, since she relied on the magic hair to stay young and beautiful, but they would not be denied their freedom. They fled into the forest together; the witch chased them up the length of the kingdom and back. Finally, the beautiful princess realized her long hair was more of a burden than a gift and cut it off. The old hag turned to dust, and the princess's hair turned an even prettier brown. That suited her lover just fine, since he always had a thing for brunettes. They walked away from this mess to live happily ever after, in land where floating lanterns flew high in the sky when the big golden sun was hidden. There were chameleons and giant libraries with plenty of walls to paint on, and all was well in the land."

"That's not how the story goes." I interrupt him gently, placing a hand on his arm. He pauses, then shrugs.

"I know. But I like to think of it that way."

"Me too." The story is charming. I'd enjoy hearing more about the fair maiden's adventures with her handsome fellow, but it still hurts when placed against the truth.

"I know," he says, reading my mind. He leans against me closely, as if we can read each other's' souls like tarot cards just by touching. And in a way, we can. The simple twitch of a muscle, the goosebumps of flesh, the loping beat of a heart. I was a nurse; I know all about the human body. Much more than I thought I ever would.

"I know," he repeats, wrapping one arm around me. There's too much to say after that; he knows as much about me as I about him, though not through the careful exploration of mind and body, but through my countless moments of foolish weakness. I don't care anymore; I'm somewhat glad for them. Who knows where I'd be if I hid my emotions as well as others I've met?

"About what?" I query anyway. I want to hear him try, to let myself know I'm not alone in this sea of madness.

"Everything," he breathes. He glances at me once through pained chestnut eyes, then gently kisses my forehead. I close my own green eyes, remembering everything. Everything. They say life flashes before you just before you die. And it's true; I am dying. But it is welcome, because now, as the old life finally fades like clouds after a storm, the new one can begin. I am done; I am undone. I am dead; I am reborn.

I'd like to say it's all because of him; that would be the romantic route. And it is true that so much of him is made of what he taught me. But that would be forgetting the others. The countless others, whose names are now scars that will never, can never, should never fade. Even thinking of them hurts.

"Perhaps…" I stop as soon as I start. I don't have to do this; it is a lot for anyone to take in. The campfire is already burning a little low, and by the time my story is finished the ash will have already been scattered by the wind. I could even jeopardize my relationship with this man, the person I've longed to be with more than any other. Someone I spent years pining for, only to lose over a confession.

"What?" He brushes my darkened hair out my face. "What is it?"

"I-I…" There's no going back. It's rising like bread in my heart and must come out, whether we like it or not. "Why don't I tell the story?"

"Stories around the campfire?" He smiles wryly. "Okay, whatever you say."

"You may not like it," I warn him. "You may hate and despise me-"

"No." His voice is firm, solid, like a rock. He clutches my hand tightly- not painfully- so securely that I think he might be frozen to me. "No, I could never despise you. I swear it on my life." His voice has dropped an octave and diminished to a whisper only we hear and share. "I will never despise you."

I take a shaky breath before wiping away grateful tears with my free hand. "Alright then. If you're sure (he answered he was) I will start."

I am dying to be reborn into this new life, under the velvet shade of a forest night by an orange campfire with the man I love. Tired, hungry, dirty, on the run. Happier- truly, deeply content- than I've been in so long.

"Once upon a time, a single drop of sun fell from the heavens…"

Haha, yes, I'm teasing you with another prologue. But this one is from Rapunzel's POV and actually serves as an extra epilogue. Sorry I've been so late, I've had so much to do and sort out. I will update soon. I've been working on first actual chapter for months, so I'll give it a go.