'Rapunzel touched the face of her beloved, and all of a sudden, it did not matter that he could not see her anymore, for her presence was all that he needed.

"Rapunzel," the prince said, the heat of her breath caressing him against the bitter wind, "will you marry me?"

Rapunzel held him close and wept, kissing his forehead through a smile.

"Of course I will," she said, and a tear fell from her eye to her chin, and from her chin, it dropped on Prince Sanborn's forehead. It trickled down, glowing with an unusual light, and split into two, just as the clouds above parted with them. Each droplet began to sparkle, as Sanborn felt the warmth of the sun coming through.

Rapunzel's tears were hot as they fell from her eyes to his, but the second they soaked into Sanborn's eyelashes, a shock of cold cooled him. Suddenly, the constant pain in his eyes melted away. The splinters of the thorns disappeared, and the drying blood on his face erased itself.

He opened his eyes.

At first, it was a blur. The green blobs of the forest on the horizon, and the sky-blue colour of Rapunzel's sleeve beneath his chin. But then, everything came into focus. Miraculously, he could see once more. Rapunzel kissed his cheek and left the embrace. Her expression turned to shock; and then to wonder; and then to a teary smile.

He returned her gesture, resting his hand on her ear, feeling her soft, short hair between his fingers.

"We're free, San." Rapunzel said.

"We are," said Sanborn, looking deeply into her eyes, seeing the entire world reflected in them. He thought for a moment, his heart beating in tune with his love's. Finally, he asked her, "Where do you want to go first?'

I turned the page and took a breath. I closed the book.

I didn't know what to say about it, if anything at all. Rapunzel's only want in life was to escape a home that had become a prison, and now she had the entire world to explore with the man she loved.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

To little avail, I searched and searched to see if a second book of her adventures existed. I flicked through every crevice - every shelf - even scouring through books that had titles that might sound like a continuation of the story. But after discovering that the promising 'Journeys Across the West Continent' was nothing more than an out-of-date travelogue, I gave up.

I knew why I resorted to that, of course. Rapunzel herself. I related to her.

But perhaps Cinderella felt the same way. A woman with a strange name, forbidden from the outside world, only to escape on her own terms. Perhaps the book was a clue - a hint that she had left me to find her. But perhaps that was too convenient, after all I still wasn't sure why she ran or if she wanted to be found. It was clear that I was grasping at straws trying to find her, and I worried that everyone else felt the same.

"They say in the western continent that it is based on a true story." Emiliano's voice made me jolt. "But it is highly far-fetched."

"How?" I asked.

"Hair so long cannot possibly exist. One could spend a hundred years growing it and never reach tower length!"

"Right," I said, a little relieved that he wasn't so wary of the aspects I loved most, "but never mind that - did you find anyone?"

He lifted his spectacles from the end of his nose, the light glinting against it as he sighed. He hung his head, and my heart ached.

"I am afraid not, your highness. Not just in the capital, but in all of Mendessa; Cinderella does not exist."

I took a moment to take it all in. From behind his glasses, Emiliano's eyes were a picture of pity.

"Worry not, Andres. This is not the end. Far from it, in fact."

"But what else can we go off without a name or face?"

"It is clear to me that Cinderella is a pseudonym. Perhaps even a nickname. We could always ask the Faerie Godmother-"

"-No," I said desperately, the memory of my cruel treatment of her haunting me once more, "she hardly gave me answers last time. I doubt she would now."

Emiliano stroked his beard in thought.

"What of the book?"

I stroked the cover's soft golden carvings.

"I figured that it might have been a clue, but now I believe I was reading too much into things."

"I meant the book itself. What did you think of it?"

"Oh," I smiled sheepishly, staring at the image of the maiden in her tower, "it may be a new favourite."

Emiliano smiled.

"Well, that does not surprise me. You've been reading all day!"

I turned to the window to see the sky turning violet. Emiliano's hand was placed gently on my back.

"Get some sleep, Andres. We shall continue our investigation when you wake."

I didn't feel like I could sleep. My mind was racing around every plot detail that could mean something. In vain, I laid in bed and pondered for hours, drearily watching the sunlight rise through my curtains. Nothing stood out to me other than the relatability I supposed me and Cinderella both felt over it.

But the ending kept crawling back to me. That ending had inspired me with so much hope that I had never felt before, that those feelings were dashed further by the lack of a 'Cinderella' in all of Mendessa. She was out there - I just knew it - waiting to be found by a prince to take her from her tower.

As much as I fought against it, my eyelids grew heavier, and I fell asleep to dream of my own happy ending.