DISCLAIMER: For the last time, "Rapunzel" belongs to the Brother's Grimm.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, this is the epilogue and final chapter of "Without a Stair." Once again, I hope you all have enjoyed my story. I know I enjoyed writing it. I would appreciate your reviews and wish you all the best!

Rapunzel's POV

(Ten years later)

"Mummy, how much further?" my daughter asked, resting her little head against my chest and looking up at me with her father's hazel eyes. I took one hand from the reins to stroke her hair and then looked to my husband, riding next to us.

Christian smiled at little Aderyn and said, "We're almost there. Just a few more minutes, love." Then he twisted back in his seat and called to our mothers, "Mother? Demeter? How are you holding up?"

The Dowager Queen and my mother broke from their chattering conversation to answer Christian. In the winter of her life, Rhainnon's body was still as thin and frail as the trees in January. Her hair had silvered to the shade of an icy lake and her eyes clouded little by little until she was left with only a dim light. But her voice, still warm and golden, rose from her like a bubbling stream.

"Christian dear, if you need to stop and rest just say so! Don't look to old ladies for an excuse!" She wagged a bony finger at her son as she and my mother laughed. Oh my mother…seeing her now still brought a prick of pain. She must have been beautiful once. Her eyes like coal, her shapely profile, but her raven hair had lost its luster and her lovely figure had melted away. Even her skin, formerly flawless, had begun to wrinkle and sag with age. I ached for those years we had lost. But even now, though her hearing suffered and her bones ached, she still overflowed with love. And I bound myself to her like a sponge, soaking in her presence. Drinking in every word of affection and thirsting for more.

Our fathers had already passed on to the next life. Shortly after the disgraced King Barnabus and his preening daughter had been thrown out of Sonra, Mordova launched a flimsy retaliation and our fathers had left for battle. Neither had returned alive. I think my mother took it harder than Rhainnon did. The Dowager Queen had been well educated and had learned to manage life on her own terms. My mother, on the other hand, had married my father young. They had rarely been apart until the last war had taken his life. Myself, I never really got to know him, but mother would sit up late with me some nights, drinking jasmine tea with honey and talking. She told me the story of my birth, and the incredible journey she and my father had taken to find me. From the way she spoke, I could feel the love he must have had for me.

I felt a tug at my hair and turned to brush it out of my eyes. Not once in ten years had I let it grow long enough to touch my collarbone. Aderyn whispered, "Mummy, what's that?" and pointed a plump little finger. Just ahead, the forest cleared a little, and one could see a heap of blackened stones scattered over the grass.

We dismounted from our horses and make our way toward the ruin. The stones were laid in a circular shape, though it was hard to see with all the crumbling and scattered blocks. Gray-green mold covered most of the stones closest to the ground, and a great rosebush twisted its stalks over the whole mass.

Christian laced his fingers through mine and rested his head on top of my own. In my right hand I had his warm, comforting palm, and in the left Aderyn's tiny fingers. Mother took Aderyn's other hand, and Rhainnon found Christian's. So we stood together, looking out over the overgrown ruin that had once been my tower, the warm summer sun shining down all around.

"Aderyn," I began, "let me tell you a story."