Becoming Rapunzel

Epilogue

It was a good beginning of our life together. Of course, there were many problems over the years. I barely made it back to Rochburg to help with Ilsa's labor. And when I did go, Ansel insisted I take guards and attendants. It was almost more trouble than it was worth. But when I saw my dear friends again, and helped welcome a charming little boy into the world, I was grateful I came. More serious problems passed through our lives. I'm certain you've heard of the baron's revolt. That happened the following year, when our third child, Remmer, was but a few sennight's old.

The baron's revolt lasted for three years. Waged on the western plains, the immediate danger was far from our southeastern archduchy. However, Ansel took an active role in the strategy of the battles, as the son of the king. There was some good that came to our home. Ansel needed someone he could trust to watch and interview his own barons, and the best person he could think of was Hans. Dear, gentle Hans with his two or three drops of ether magic in his blood, used his skill of reading faces and voices to protect our family from any possible traitorous fiefdoms. And just as importantly, Ilsa and their little boys came to live in our household, off and on, for four years.

I was never accepted at Erding, and although Queen Axelle and I struck up a casual friendship through correspondence, our families rarely visited one another. I much preferred the countryside, even if some of the lower nobles' wives were suspicious of me for several years. Now, with all the time that has passed, I'm quite sure that no one would even remember who I was at court anymore. Young people have short memories.

While restoring the cloister to glory endeared me to the people of Varia, being a patron of all orphanages in the region was considered odd for a noblewoman. But it became a passion of mine, something I felt called to do, just as I felt called to healing, to provide care and what little love I could on children whose fears and hopes had been my own, as an abandoned child so many years before. And, my dear, I'm sure you've heard the rumor that some of your relatives are not born of our blood. I do confess to taking in one or two children, but no one, not even you or your cousins, will ever learn from me which of my eight children was not born from my own womb.

And all the pain, all the tears Ansel and I shed over our lost years? They melted away. Not immediately, but with each day of laughter and love, the ache lessened. Until one day we realized we had spent more time together than apart—ten times the amount. And while hurt faded like a bad dream does upon awaking, the things we learned about ourselves stayed with us, making us who we are.

I have lived more fully than I ever could have imagined as a young girl, locked away in the tower, and I have become more than I could have ever dreamed. I was, and am, Rapunzel, just as you are your own. The troubles have not blocked out the hope. Pain will one day drowned by joy.

So, my beloved great-granddaughter, that is my story. I know it's been long, and I'm grateful that you have taken the time to read the memories of a dotty old woman. But I hope that my story can help you.

The End