It was the guards who turned first.
The guards – the same guards to whom Cassandra’s father belonged, the same guards Eugene led, the same guards sworn to protect the queen…
No, not the queen. That was vanity, that was pride – to assume all honor flowed from her, that she was the fount of all the graces of the realm. They served the realm first, not the queen – and it was good that they served the realm. Rapunzel would not have it any other way. Rapunzel would not have them serve her and her alone, with no thought for the greater ideals Corona stood for. She would not declare herself the state – though queen, she was, and all antiquity named her the state if tyrant she wished to be…
Eugene reported their whisperings – like the crackling of sticks, the rustling of flames.
Rapunzel knew what she could do, but she was no tyrant.
It was not all the guards. Many were loyal to her. Many saw Cassandra grow up and loved her well. Many respected Eugene.
It was not all the guards, but it was enough.
Enough to break down the door to Cassandra’s chamber, to find Cassandra and Rapunzel naked in Cassandra’s bed.
They lunged. Cassandra swung forward – stark, vulnerable. She seized her sword, seeming like some nude goddess of war, of defiance – some Athena or some Artemis out of painting or stone. She cut down three men before they could strike her – and when they finally struck a blow, she stood fiercely, the blood running from her shoulder. Rapunzel had no sword, had not even a frying pan, but stood with all the terrible power of one who had cast down demons and shadows, stronger forces than the coups of men.
But the weapons of the guards were not so terrible as their eyes and tongues – for tongues multiplied in the wagging of them, eyes multiplied with discovery – until it was as though a whole host of cherubim and seraphim with a hundred eyes and wheeling arms all gazed down in judgment.
They all knew what might come. They just didn’t know if it would – and if it would, when it would.
It came on a cool night. Rapunzel was in Eugene’s arms when the jolt awakened her. The two of them rose. They rallied those loyal to them.
When the gate fell, it was as though a flaming sword brought it down.
But it was no flaming sword – and even if it were, Rapunzel would not submit to an army of angels.
Judgment was not righteous judgment.
Arms, legs, eyes, hands overteemed the flames, catching them and burning even as they surged – the arms, legs, eyes and hands of mortals – mortals who only withstood their own fire through their fervor – knotted, tangled in one mass but not a many-eyed incomprehensibility – a chaos but not of righteousness – only of its imitation.
Rapunzel heard a howl split the night – saw Catalina, in wolf-shape, tackling a score of figures – throwing them off her…
Varian had devised machines for an invasion – but Rapunzel refused to have such devices used against her own people…
Many of the throng were pushed back, but enough remained…
Eugene took her by the hand, guiding her in the darkness, shielding her from the sparks and flames…
A burning timber fell. Eugene pushed her out of the way to protect her and then, with agility and panache, outmaneuvered its crash and followed after her.
Somersaulted out of its way and back into Rapunzel’s arms and they laughed together.
Relief. The nervous laughter of relief.
Cass could take care of herself; Rapunzel knew she could…
The corridors were narrow. The corridors were closing in, caving in…
There was a passageway out of the castle. If they could reach it…
They were already running.
The shadow-figures were closing in, the silhouettes and shapes against the flames –
They could run no farther.
That was when Cassandra fell upon the shadow-figures. She had donned full armor, but glided elegantly through the air – twisting a man’s neck with the strength of her legs while still in motion, sending the body spinning into fire, then kicking out to knock another man’s teeth asunder before landing upon the earth.
Cassandra drew her saber and, in the blaze, hers was the flaming sword.
The tongues of flame dancing in the reflection of the steel.
When Rapunzel thought of defying angels, her defiance was born of love – of true righteousness.
When these men stood in defiance of a flaming sword drawn against them in righteous nobility, they sensed no irony.
Such are the ways of fools.
Cassandra’s opponents struck at her.
Her dark eyes laughed at them.
She tasted blood on her lips and smiled.
The fools began to fall and those who did not fall fled – giving the trio a moment of relief.
“I don’t suppose I look a bit more devil-may-care this way?” Cassandra mused, gesturing to her bleeding lip.
“No, I don’t suppose you do,” Eugene replied with the softest of smirks. In better spirits, he might have used the blood to compare her to a ghoul or a vampire, but the spirit for such pointed quips had been wrung from him. Cass made as if to punch his arm – a good-natured punch – but did not strike.
All three laughed lightly – the nervous laughter of relief.
They gathered around the passageway’s trapdoor, a great and heavy thing obscured by darkness, and pulled it open.
Already, the scattered men were gathering reinforcements.
Of a sudden, they were upon them – sooner than any of the trio had anticipated – and more than they had anticipated. All the flood, it seemed, that had overrun the gates, all the flood that had once been routed was returning in a dark wave – dark like the blight of the Hurt Incantation, sweeping and consuming, dark tendrils ready to sink deep in the earth, to follow even after the trio descended underground…
“Someone has to hold them off.”
Cassandra’s words were whispered, but rang clear in Rapunzel’s heart even amid the thunder.
“No. Cass, no. Don’t you dare.”
A wan smile on Cass’s lips. A soft wistfulness in her voice.
Brittle, as before her departure.
Brittle, as through the broken sobs of her confession.
Brittle, as the voice of one who has so much to lose but cares nothing if she loses her life…
Rapunzel kissed her then – frantically – desperately – the most helpless, desperate, and pitiable plea for Cass not to do this. Cassandra melted into the kiss – and for a moment Rapunzel thought she would stay with her. Cassandra relished the kiss, drew it out, as though trying to make the moment last forever – and that was when Rapunzel knew that her desperation was futile.
Cassandra shoved her into Eugene’s arms and Eugene held her as she screamed – screamed and sobbed.
Pinned her arms to her sides – held her so she could not break free – the two people she loved most working hand in hand to protect her – pulled her back towards the trapdoor.
Catalina’s howls had not split the night as terribly as Rapunzel’s screams.
The shadowed flood crashed over them, and in the disarray, Rapunzel felt Eugene fling her backward into the abyss – heard him shout – saw him making to shut the trapdoor – heard Cassandra’s sword twang like a war-song – then heard the echo of the trapdoor’s slam…
With only the memory of Eugene’s arms…
With only the taste of Cassandra’s blood on her lips from their kiss…
She crawled through the darkness with nothing to light her way. From time to time, she thought she felt Pascal in some cranny or nook, but it was not Pascal. She crawled and crawled until she came out into the clear air of the night… where men were already waiting…
The queen was captured alone.
