10
" Gothel had told her that cutting her hair would kill her. The Goodwife said that was nonsense; it would only affect her powers, if anything at all. And come to think of it, Rapunzel did lose the occasional hair when it caught on something, or when she was combing it out. The dead hairs turned a dull brown, and it used to panic her when she was little. Did it take a day off her life? A month? A year?
She thoughtfully wrapped a lock of hair around her fingers. Biting her lip, she brought the shears up....
"Rapunzel? What are you doing? No!"
Flynn had quietly come in (and had paused at the door, preparing to say something theatrical) but immediately dropped all playing. He ran over and grabbed her hands, holding them away from her.
"What... oh," Rapunzel said, confused and taking a moment to figure out what he was doing. "You thought I was going to hurt myself. You didn't hear what the Goodwife said? Cutting my hair won't kill me."
"Oh. No, I did not hear that," Flynn said, collapsing against the edge of the workbench. But he didn't let go of her right hand. "Maybe when the group learns something important like that, you could let me in on it? You know, keep me in the loop?"
"Sorry," she said, a little chagrined. "I guess this looked really bad, didn't it?"
"You have no idea, Rapunzel, I... I think I died a little when I saw that."
He opened his mouth, trying to say something else.
Was he going to go into full funny Flynn Rider mode? Or was he actually going to say something serious?
Rapunzel could hardly breathe, waiting to see.
And then he kissed her.
It wasn't like the night before, when there was a pause and a feeling of expectation. He took her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers. With desperation, maybe as if she really had almost died.
Rapunzel shivered-- and for the slightest moment panicked that it was her magic activating. But it wasn't...
When he stopped, she reached up and touched his lips gently. She didn't want the moment to end.
"I don't want to lose you," he whispered. "But if I have to... I'd rather it be to your happy ending than to..."
"Brigands and mercenaries, or a hair-related death, I know. You do care, Flynn Rider! "
― Liz Braswell , What Once Was Mine
14
" Without knowing why, she brought her hair up to Pascal again. She knew he wouldn't be hurt. The little lizard was intrigued by whatever was going on; he nosed into her locks like a curious kitten.
Immediately the sparkles that pulsed through her hair danced around him, falling and flickering. Soon they completely covered the little lizard like snow. Rapunzel watched, enchanted.
Then he sneezed. Embers of magic flicked and faded as they fell to the earth.
Rapunzel gasped.
Pascal was perfectly fine.
He just wasn't-- Pascal.
He was an entirely different lizard. A lizard Rapunzel had never seen before, in books or anywhere. His eyes were now two balls that perched on the sides of his head and looked around independently of each other. His back was a graceful arch. His feet had two pairs of strange toes that opened up in the middle like claws. And his tail! It curled around and around and clasped onto her arm- prehensile and grasping, not a limp thing that just hung there to help with balance (and to occasionally break off and confuse a predator).
And he was looking at himself! Holding his feet out one at a time and admiring them, thwacking the tip of his tail and snapping his mouth in satisfaction. Like a... person. He thoughtfully gazed back at his body, considering it.
His skin suddenly started to change color: a wave of brown, and then red, pulsed through him from nose to tail.
"Pascal!" Rapunzel cried. "You're a dragon!"
She only wished he had turned into a slightly larger dragon so she could ride and/or hug him. "
― Liz Braswell , What Once Was Mine
18
" She opened the satchel.
And honestly, fate couldn't have provided a better prize at the end of a scavenger hunt.
She pulled out a beautiful, sparkling crown.
Her large green eyes grew even larger. Despite the hour and lack of sunlight, its jewels still managed to shimmer and twinkle in a magical, expensive way. Rapunzel might not have had much experience with royal gems or any kind of precious stone, but it was very clear that these were those. The thing was straight out of a fairy tale, what a princess would be wearing when she was turned back from a swan. The giant diamonds were even shaped like swans' eggs. Under each was a round pink ruby, and threading between them was a strand of perfectly round pearls.
She turned it over in her hands, tracing the tiny, intricately wound gold wire that held it all together.
And there, in a small flat patch of smooth metal, was the artist's mark-- and a multi-rayed sun symbol.
The same one on her bracelet clasp.
The same one that she constantly painted and dreamed of. The one that meant life and happiness and energy in the personal vocabulary of Rapunzel's soul. "
― Liz Braswell , What Once Was Mine
20
" You haven't even asked what I'll pay you," Rapunzel said innocently.
"You don't have enough," Flynn promised. Then he turned to Gina and said in a theatrical whisper, "This is where she offers her necklace, or a bracelet, or some other rich girl trinket I couldn't pawn even if I wanted...."
"How about a crown?" Rapunzel suggested.
Flynn grew very, very still.
"Uh-oh," Gina said with a wicked grin.
"What, um-- what crown?" Flynn asked casually.
"The one that you stole. The one that the Stabbingtons want back. The one that you hid, rather obviously, in a tree hollow," Rapunzel said smugly, crossing her arms. "Diamonds, pearls, about my size... You know, that crown?"
"That's my crown! Give it back! I stole it fair and square!" Flynn, cried, leaping up.
"You mean you stole it from the castle, or you stole it from the Stabbingtons?" Gina asked interestedly.
"Doesn't matter," Flynn said, crossing his arms and setting his jaw childishly. "It's mine now."
"Well, no, it's mine," Rapunzel said. "At least until you take me to see the lanterns, and home again. Then it's yours."
"You must have seen me hide it! In the tree!"
"Déduction très brillante," Rapunzel said archly. "
― Liz Braswell , What Once Was Mine
