Author's Note: Thanks for the positive response to the previous chapter. I was quite worried about the reaction to some of the material in it. In the early 1700s, acting that way would not necessarily be a signal that a guy was a chauvinistic jerk. The context must be considered, including the level of technological and scientific advancement in society. Flynn didn't say what he said because of rigid adherence to ideology; he said it because he genuinely had her best interests in mind and had the socially conditioned expectation of "leading" in family/marital matters.

I'm sorry for the extreme delay in this chapter. I don't abandon stories, but this chapter was very difficult to write—and I hope the reasons for that will be evident. I'm uneasy about the material in it as well and I hope it doesn't turn anyone off.

There is a strong content warning for this chapter for violence, death, and angst. Some people may not like what I've written Flynn doing in the chapter, but I have tried to deal with the subject in what I think would be a realistic way that addresses the complexity of feelings one would have.

Chapter Seventeen: The Opposite Power

For the next few weeks, the conflict level in the little household remained nil. Perhaps because he did know that control and confinement were personal issues for Rapunzel, Flynn seemed to make a point of taking more outings with her than previously. They were not just to the pub, either. The two took frequent strolls through the city—his dangerous knife always on his person—and the docks. They spent time in the library. Once he even rented a little boat and took her out on the river. The outing reminded her of the night in the boat back on the Continent, except this time, they did manage to share a kiss and nothing bad happened after they docked.

Objectively, Rapunzel knew that her opportunities to be outside the flat had not decreased at all, quite the opposite. She was going to the store to take commissions, as she had wanted, and all in all it meant that she was seeing more of Flynn than ever before.

So why am I feeling resentment? she asked herself one night after he had gone to sleep. The feeling had been weighing on her, filling her with guilt and uncertainty. They had not had another argument, nor had they come verbally close to one, but she knew that was only because she made a deliberate effort to suppress any physical manifestations of this slow-simmering annoyance. After all, she had been reasoning privately, he was holding to his word and taking her out. She was in the flat even less than before and was seeing more new things. There was no reason to be resentful, she had been telling herself.

Tonight, she had finally had to face that she was resentful, and she realized that she needed to figure out why before it grew to a level that she could not contain and it sparked another, worse argument. The only answer she could come up with was that the real issue was not about physical confinement in a building. It was about another person having authority over her in the first place, even if it were not abused.

That's different from how it was when I lived with Mother, she thought. With Mother, it had been about physical confinement during a time when she wanted to be outside. At the beginning of her adventure, she had been firmly resolved to go back to the tower after she had seen the lanterns. But later, she had resolved to stay with Eugene, the first person—she now knew—who had "liked her." Then she resolved to never let Mother use her hair again even if she did have to stay indoors with her. The adventure had broadened her wishes on this subject, and it had not really been about indoor confinement in a very long time. After becoming free, a significant part of her wanted to stay free in every respect.

She thought back to what he had said in their argument. "You're not anymore," he had snapped. She knew it was true. By choosing this course for her life, she had ceded some freedom. They had both given up a lot for each other. But it still didn't seem right that she had to cede this much—that she was going out and seeing new things only because he "let" her. It didn't matter to her that Gothel had been the one to warn her against a legal connection with a man on this account. It felt wrong to her. It was one teaching of Gothel's that she could not disregard through logic or experiences. On occasion she wondered how Gothel had arrived at this viewpoint, since she had lived for centuries in eras that were much more restrictive than the present day. She supposed that if a person lived an isolated life for a thousand years mostly in a dark age and observed all the atrocities and injustices that humanity perpetrated, it was virtually impossible not to develop a negative view of most long-standing social customs. Rapunzel knew from reading that a philosophical revolution was taking place across Europe and many old, bad ideas were being discarded in the new school of thought, but this wasn't among them.

Thoughts passed unbidden through her mind, thoughts that instantly made her feel ashamed of having them—but there was no helping it. They were there and she decided to acknowledge them. For a tiny moment she hoped that, by acknowledging them, she would be able to talk herself out of making too much of them.

He said I'd had other choices. I could have found work of some sort. The tailor shop here has only women, and I can sew. Or I could have become a housemaid or barmaid—or washerwoman. Or cook. I can do things. And I would have been able to come and go as I pleased...

She paused in thought, realizing that this wasn't really true. In all those jobs, she would have had to answer to an employer or customers.

And I wouldn't have had him. I wouldn't have him lying next to me right now. I would never have seen him again.

That thought was painful. She gazed upon him as he slept and that only made the idea more painful. She loved him very much, even when she was annoyed with him, and she would have missed him. And who knew what might have become of him if he had remained alone? It likely would not have been good. That was another thing; she knew very well that he took pride in the fact that he could support a wife on his income, that she did not have to make money for them to get by, and that he had even established the means for her to earn the bonus money that she wanted to earn. It made him feel successful and mature. When she had the baby, this sense of pride he had would only increase, she knew. He would be supporting a family instead of just one other person. His faith in himself was important... but so is mine, she thought.

She was at a loss. There was nothing else she would rather be doing. Openly facing the other possibilities that had once been available to her had not filled her with regret, but had indeed reaffirmed her own choice, as she had hoped. But it had not done one thing towards softening the irritation she felt.

Maybe, she thought, maybe it really shouldn't matter to me as long as he doesn't abuse it. After all, it doesn't negatively affect me if he doesn't. There is nothing I want to do that he is keeping me from doing. There is nothing I want to do that he would have an independent reason to dislike. Nothing material would change for me if he thought differently about it.

This type of reasoning was not entirely satisfactory. Her innate sense of justice still whispered to her. But, short of persuading him to change his mind—which she thought she might well try over time, once he was more comfortable of her safety—her only palatable choice was to reason in this way.

The day began as an unpleasant, dreary, rainy late winter day. There was no need for her to come to the store in these wretched conditions, he assured her as he pulled his cloak on and headed for the door. Besides, she was far enough along that he did not want anything to happen that might induce early labor.

She had no objection to his protectiveness in this. She did not particularly want to get out in these conditions either. A cold, wet chill was in the air, seeping in through the tiny gaps around the casement windows, and it was certain to be infinitely worse outside. Pascal had reacted as he had always done during the long winters in the tower, by sleeping a lot—in this case, as close to the kitchen hearth as he was willing to venture. At least it didn't affect her that badly, but still, this winter had gone on far too long, as far as Rapunzel was concerned. After he had kissed her and headed out the door, she made herself a cup of hot tea to try to warm herself.

Perhaps it was a sign that spring was around the corner, a thought that cheered Rapunzel's heart as it occurred to her, but the dreary gray rain soon gave way to a shimmery golden sparkle. It was still raining a little, but the sunlight was breaking through. Rapunzel had a sudden thought. She got up and went to the south wall of the flat, peering out the small diamond-paned window. Yes, sure enough, the sun was gleaming through the clear curtain of rain. There would be a rainbow—probably a vivid one—on the north side of the horizon.

The flat had no north-facing windows. There was one that faced east, but she would have to crane her neck, and she still might not see it.

It wasn't on purpose. It wasn't a deliberate act of defiance. Even with all the vague annoyance with him that she had been feeling, this was unrelated to any of that. She was just bloody sick of this miserable winter, this dead gray sky every day, the seemingly unending sheets of rain, sleet, and freezing rain. She wanted to see something that—to her—was symbolic of spring, of the countryside, of the bright colors of flowers and grass. I just want to see the rainbow. After I see it, I'll come right back.

When she reached an area on the street that had a clear and unobstructed view, she realized that it was indeed vivid and full. In fact, it appeared to be a triple rainbow. There was definitely a fainter second one above it, and right below it was a smaller, inverted one. The rain was still falling lightly, though that did not bother any of the children who were gaping at it or tugging on their parents' hands to stop and admire it. Rapunzel hardly cared that she was one of the few adults who were just as enthralled as the children. It was beautiful and she was glad that she had come out to look at it.

At this point, a cloud covered the sun. The golden light reflecting off all the wet surfaces vanished and the rainbow faded quickly. Rapunzel turned around; the cloud was a big one, and unless it broke up unpredictably, the rainbow would not return. Oh, well. At least she had seen it. She turned around and began to head back to the flat.

Suddenly pain shot through her forearm as a set of clawlike fingernails dug into her. She was yanked harshly out of her path by whoever had grabbed her, pulled into the shadows of a dubious-looking dockside building. Her head whipped around, and instantly she caught a glimpse of the vagrant, criminal troublemaker Morse.

Rapunzel shouted for help, but Morse slugged her on the side of the head as soon as the noise left her mouth. Stars seemed to pop before her eyes, and she fell silent without even meaning to. Feeling dizzy from the blow, Rapunzel half-fell against a wall. Morse yanked out a handkerchief from a pocket and stuffed it into her mouth. He grabbed her wrists and held her arms behind her back.

Rapunzel was coming to, but with her return to full awareness came no relief. Even with the break in the clouds, the streets were still largely empty from the rain that had been pouring all day. No one was coming in response to her shout. Likely no one would come.

Except—

She remembered with a flash that it was around noontime. The sun had been in the south. This meant that Eugene would surely be returning home for lunch. He'll see I'm not there, she thought unhappily, but that's the least of my worries now. As she brooded on this possibility, she realized that this was probably exactly what Morse had intended.

Seemingly reading her mind, the criminal said around a nasty smirk, "I reckon he'll come home to eat, won't he?"

Rapunzel glared back, refusing to nod her head.

Morse continued, not needing confirmation. "I've kept an eye on his comings and goings. He'll be home. And you won't be. Wonder how long it'll take him to track you down?" He grinned. "I think I'll go get him. And you will wait right here." Transferring her wrists to a single hand, he reached in his pocket for more rags, which he used to bind her hands and feet around a half-rotten wooden post. He leered at her large belly. "Yes, I think he'll be quite concerned that you aren't there. Oh, don't be so angry," he said mockingly. "I'm going to draw him in here for the fight, so you'll get to see him one last time." His mouth curled into an ugly sneer. With an ironic tip of his hat, Morse left the building and stalked out into the street.

Rapunzel had not wanted him to see it, but despair was washing over her. If there was one thing that could draw Eugene from the safety of his usual path (though how safe it really was, she could not say, since Morse had apparently been tracking his movements at least some of the time), it was a threat to her and the baby. Then too, he wouldn't want a public knife fight (Rapunzel really hoped that Morse did not have a gun) any more than Morse. He would be there, and... Rapunzel would have to watch them. She would have to watch him be threatened with a blade while she was helpless and tied up, yet again.

She gazed around the room. This building was in disrepair, and this space had probably been used for storage many years ago. There were no windows, just bare wood, piles of broken boards and bricks, and lots of dust. She tried to twist herself free, to reach her fingers around and get at the knot, but Morse had tied it too tight. She tried to spit out the gag, but it was lodged in her mouth. This was much worse than when Mother Gothel had done such things to her.

After what seemed like an eternity, the battered old door swung open again. Flynn's eyes flashed with anger, and his hands reached for Morse's neck.

Morse kicked him in the stomach before he could grab hold, sending him reeling and winded. Morse reached into his pocket and removed a knife. He clicked it open and advanced toward the stumbling man.

Flynn saw the flash of steel, and it seemed to jolt him back to strength. He stood upright, eyes flashing coldly, and withdrew his own blade from its sheath. There was something about him at the moment that almost sent chills down Rapunzel's back. She had never seen him like this before, not even in the bar brawl. Then it had been heated rage. This was not heated, but it was somehow much angrier and much more dangerous.

"I'll kill you!" he snarled through clenched teeth. He leaped toward Morse and lunged, deftly avoiding the swing of Morse's own blade.

Flynn had some skill in a fight. Rapunzel had never had the opportunity to observe this until the bar fight, but it was indubitable now. It was also clearly something Morse had not reckoned on. Plain fear was in the criminal's eyes as it dawned on him that he was probably outmatched.

Flynn's knife sliced open Morse's left arm. The other man cursed in pain. "You just watch yourself or I'll take it out on her once I'm done with you!" he sneered back, obviously trying to provoke Flynn into flying into an undisciplined rage. It was the only way he stood a chance.

For a terrible moment, real heat came over Flynn, and Rapunzel was afraid he would rise to the bait. But the moment passed, and the sense of terrible, urgent purpose came over him once more. She watched, transfixed, as he aimed again, eyes still flashing with hatred.

Reeling from the pain, Morse swung wildly with his knife. The move was so uncontrolled that Flynn did not completely see it coming, and it opened a gash on his left wrist. He stopped for a brief second, but immediately recovered himself and slammed Morse against the far wall by the shoulder, his own blood dripping from his cut wrist onto the man's upper chest. With an icy fury that Rapunzel still could not believe she was witnessing, he stabbed the blade a little farther down, right above the heart.

"You will never lay a hand on her again!" he roared as he withdrew from the fatal wound—and then stuck his knife into the man's neck.

The next few seconds seemed to pass in slow motion. Blood bubbled up from the corners of Morse's lips even as it streamed red from the wounds. The man crumpled to the ground and did not move. Flynn went over to Rapunzel and sliced through the rags binding her wrists. She ripped the gag from her mouth as he bent down and did the same work to the rag around her ankles. He then sat down on the dirty floor, staring ahead at nothing in particular.

She had no idea what to say. Fortunately, the moment of silence passed. He got to his feet again. "Are you all right?" he asked. He gazed at the ugly bruise on the side of her head. "He did that to you?"

She nodded, unable to speak, or even to look at him at the moment. Now that they were both alive, other thoughts had made unwelcome entry to her mind. What if this was murder? And what if it wasn't and she had to explain to him why she had put herself in danger?

"Did he hurt you anywhere else?"

She shook her head. Forcing herself to speak, she heaved a breath and asked in stuttering tones, "What about you? You killed him."

"Right. I should report it so that the guards know what happened and nothing looks suspicious," he said in emotionless tones.

"Guards?"

He nodded. "They're not ubiquitous like in Corona... they are a bit hard to find in this part of town, actually, but we should find one quickly if we can." He sheathed his knife and extended a hand to her.

Finding an officer of the law turned out surprisingly easy. The reason for this became clear at once. Someone outside the ramshackle building had heard Rapunzel call for help, but instead of immediately intervening, the person had sought out a pair of guards.

Flynn was displeased that the bystander had not wanted to get involved. If Morse had intended to harm Rapunzel, he would have gotten away with it by this time. The thought made him angry again, and he tried to keep cool as he explained to the guards what had taken place.

"He had snatched my wife off the street and was holding her hostage to draw me into a fight," Eugene said. "He made the first move with a weapon. He attacked me with his knife... so I stabbed him in defense."

One of the guards, the shorter one, gazed at the dead body of Morse. "He has been in trouble with the law before," he muttered. "Low-life character in general."

"He threatened us once, in public. It was in the Third Sheet pub. The owner, George Vale, will back me up."

The taller guard, who seemed to be higher-ranking than his associate, left the other one to watch the body, and the three of them trudged off to the pub.

When Vale saw Eugene and Rapunzel being escorted into the pub by an officer of the law, his face instantly became grave. Eugene realized that he probably thought that the liquor smuggling had come out and Vale was about to be implicated as an accomplice. He hoped that his friend would wait for the real reason of the visit to come out before saying anything incriminating.

The officer strode up to the bar. "Is there someplace private?"

"Back here," Vale said, letting the small group behind the counter. He brought them into the quiet area where he kept his gun stashed. "How may I help you?"

The officer spoke in a low tone. "I was summoned by a resident who said that a woman was screaming for help. By the time I could get there, one man—a drifter named Richard Morse—was dead of a knife wound. Mr. and Mrs. Fitzherbert were there and both show signs of injuries. He says that Morse kidnapped his wife to draw him into a fight and that Morse had made a threat to them before in this pub."

"Morse is dead?" Vale gasped.

"That's what I said. Now, about this threat—"

"Oh yes, Morse threatened to kill him and—subject his wife to—" Vale broke off, gazing at a clearly upset Rapunzel, unwilling to finish.

The officer's lip curled. "Vile. Typical of his type." He turned to Rapunzel. "Are you quite all right, madam?"

Rapunzel nodded, still shaking. "He pulled me off the street and into that building, and hit me in the head... but I don't need a doctor. I'm all right."

The officer turned back to Eugene. "What did he threaten you over? I mean, what was the reason he singled you out?" There was no hint of accusation or suspicion in the question, just curiosity.

Eugene thought fast. "I run a small store and bought some items off him once. They weren't good quality, but he said he really needed a little money. Later someone must have claimed I gave him a bad price, because he accused me in the pub fight of robbing him over that. I gave him what they were worth."

Rapunzel gave him a fleeting look as he reeled off this tale but instantly glanced away. Vale kept his composure throughout the entire fib.

The officer shook his head. "Well, I will see that the body is taken to the coroner promptly. You are both released. Have a good afternoon."

He did not return to work that afternoon. He went by the shop to turn the sign to say Closed, and then they headed back home, both of them very quiet. When they were safely locked into the little flat, he collapsed on the sofa and leaned back, closing his eyes as if to block something out. His right hand found its way to his forehead.

She stared at him in growing horror. He remained splayed on the couch, hardly moving, not opening his eyes, trapped in whatever dark mental hell he was in and shutting her out. She was already convinced that this was her fault. Being left out like this was too much. She dashed over to the sofa and fell down next to him, feeling tears form in her eyes.

"I am so sorry," she exclaimed, grabbing his left hand—the metal of his wedding band passed through her fingers, giving her another pang—and squeezing it. Her voice broke as she cried out.

He finally opened his eyes. Clear pain was written in his face as he met her gaze with his. He couldn't seem to find words.

She continued to plead with him. "I didn't leave the flat on purpose to make you angry. It just... happened. I didn't think anything would go wrong; I really didn't." She touched his cheek tentatively. "It's going to be all right. It was self-defense... and defense of me. You're not going to be in trouble."

At last he spoke. "It wasn't self-defense." The words sounded dead.

"What?" she cried. "Of course it was. It was like you said, he came at you with his knife... and there was the threat to me. I was there. I saw what happened."

He gave a dark chuckle. "If it had been self-defense, I wouldn't have aimed to kill, just to end the fight." He stared back at her, watching her eyes—already quite large—grow wider as the import of his words sank in. "It was rage, Rapunzel. It was fury with him for daring to kidnap you, to threaten you, to endanger our child. I absolutely meant to kill him." He wasn't sure what he hoped to accomplish with this confession—it was not healing to say this—but the words were out now. "You saw that too, I'm sure."

Rapunzel gazed at him, unable to think of anything to say. The memory of him snarling almost incoherently at Morse, then going after him and—yes, it was true—purposely aiming for the upper chest, then stabbing in the neck after already inflicting a mortal wound, just to make sure that he would die quickly, she realized... She felt ill all of a sudden.

The façade of toughness that he had been wearing suddenly collapsed. His face crumpled. "I'm glad that the law doesn't see it that way—or doesn't know, since I didn't tell them I was trying to kill—but I know what it really was. I have never..." His voice broke. "I've tried, the past ten months, to be a decent person. The only lawbreaking I have done has been to deprive people of revenue, not take anything that they already owned. And I've never killed before."

Rapunzel still didn't know what to say. The feeling of guilt was veritably flooding her. Feebly she objected, "You killed Mother Gothel that time."

"It wasn't the same. I had no idea that she would die when I cut your hair. I just reasoned, as well as I could—given the circumstances—that she would cast you off once your hair was of no value to her, and you would be free. I did have a feeling she might turn old—something I heard in jail—but I had no idea that she would be that old. This was different, Rapunzel. I attacked with the full intent of taking his life." He sighed and rubbed his forehead, closing his eyes briefly again.

"He was a bad person," she protested, trying to think of any angle that might make him feel better. "He would have killed you, and he would have tried to make me do awful things."

"I know," he said. "I know what he was. That doesn't change what I am."

"You are a—"

"Murderer," he spat.

"No you aren't!" she exclaimed. "Don't call yourself that! You didn't pick the fight! You did exactly what you ought."

He seemed not to have heard her. "You had the power to heal. You could even bring the dead back to life. The only power I have is the opposite one. I can deal out death. That's all I can do." He chuckled darkly again. The laughter seemed to have taken on a manic tone.

"That is not true!" Rapunzel grabbed his hand and pressed it over her abdomen. "What does death have to do with this?" She stared desperately at his face. "It's life—and you had something to do with it! Besides," she added as she noticed his face softening, "today you dealt out death so that you could preserve my life, and the life of this child. It's not always bad." Tears welled up in her eyes. "I am the one at fault here. I should have stayed inside like you wanted me to do. You were completely right about that. It wasn't safe. It wouldn't even have happened if—"

He reached out and enveloped her in his arms, pulling her close. "I should not have asked that of you," he said. "I thought I had a rational explanation for why it wasn't the same as what Mother Gothel did to you—"

"It was rational."

"—but our ideas about some things are not strictly rational. I would not want to visit that orphanage again, even though it has no hold on me and never will again." He gazed at her. "You should never be shut up and confined. You should be free. And don't say that this was your fault because you had a natural urge to go outdoors and see something."

She hugged him wordlessly. He returned the hug. His embrace seemed strangely fragile to her, so she burrowed closer against him. He tightened his grip, causing a feeling of warmth to spread over her. They stayed like that for some time before finally separating. He looked away from her, down at his feet.

"There is one thing that still worries me," he said hesitantly, still not meeting her eye. "He was dressed in decent clothing again. I said when he first got out of jail that it bothered me that he had good clothes, because it meant he'd got hold of some money—or had a benefactor. That's what I'm worried about—that his ally, whoever it is, will come after us for revenge."

Rapunzel thought about this. "I don't think there's much reason to worry about that. It was probably just someone who hired him for a job, and he immediately spent his earnings on the clothes. If he had someone conspiring with him in the vendetta against you, he would have brought the man along today."

He considered for a moment. "That's true. He wouldn't have cared about it being two against one."

"And unless there is something in the newspaper, in the death notice or whatever papers do, about how you killed him in the fight, there wouldn't be any reason for anyone to know how he died. People like that could die of all sorts of things."

Eugene nodded in agreement. "I don't think the guards would give my name to the paper. If any details were given, it would be that he died in a murder attempt."

"So I think that we're probably safe now. It's over."

He nodded. "It's over."

Late Update: I am marking this story as Complete. I did not have a clearly defined plot for it except the one that was resolved with this chapter, and the problems with "the life of _" stories are that they can be episodic and that it's difficult to decide where to cut them off. Starting a new plotline with this fic would have made it episodic, and this is a natural ending.

If you are interested, here's what I envision for their long-term future:

The King and Queen of Corona do visit London to meet their in-laws. There is no interaction with Flynn, since this would also have to be a state visit and he moves in very different circle. Until they leave, he worries about being recognized.

The baby is born well and healthy. She is the first of many.

Business continues to pick up, and they start to run out of living space. They start saving up money to get out. In a few years, they move to Ireland, with McKearney's assistance, and are able to spread out and give their family some green space and fresh air.