A/N: Third one-shot of four, following Estival Egression (Brave/RotG) and Autumnal Alteration (Httyd/RotG), featuring the Big Four as seasonal spirits with individual canons left intact. Hiccup (Spirit of Autumn and Change) was first, then Merida (Spirit of Summer and Freedom), and now for Rapunzel. The fourth one-shot will really be more a collection of three or so shorter one-shots or drabbles on how Jack met and got to know each of the other three. I am not yet sure what category I will upload that one into, given that it'd technically be a four-way crossover. I'm sort of leaning toward RotG/Movie X-Overs (it'd be easy to find there at least).
Joining AO3 and putting this little series up there is looking pretty tempting since their crossovers aren't limited to just two categories. We shall see.
Enjoy!
Once there was a fair and prosperous kingdom ruled by a kind, humble, and much-beloved Queen.
This is the story of how she died.
Mother Gothel had always been an adept liar, weaving her entire existence from falsehood, down to her very age and demeanor. Like all the best liars, however, her lies were built from truth: her hair may have been black instead of grey and her skin unlined by impossible age, but it was still her own hair and her own skin. She claimed to love Rapunzel, which was true enough if you added a possessive and another noun to focus that love on the girl's hair and its healing properties. She always backtracked over her more obviously hurtful statements with the claim that she was "just teasing" – again, true enough if you accepted that her personal brand of playful 'teasing' was a cruel and vicious thing, the teasing of a bully building herself up by tearing others down.
She spoke of a world filled with greedy, selfish people, people who would destroy the slightest glimpse of sunlight out of spite, who would trap any power that fell into their hands and enslave it for their own use. The truth here was in Gothel's own actions, for Rapunzel had discovered a world that embraced sunlight, where she could shine and bring joyful smiles to the faces around her.
There was another spark of truth in this last claim, however, one which encompassed more than Mother Gothel herself, for while she was the very selfish person she had described, she was not alone. The Stabbington Brothers had been two such individuals, and there were more besides, dark pockets in a bright, bursting world, spots of bruising and rot. While Rapunzel loved the world too much to condemn it for these few, she learned in the course of her life to be aware of their existence, at the very least, and to work against the harm they could cause at the best, preventing what she could and healing what she couldn't.
But even Queen Rapunzel the Fair could not have prevented this, however hard she had tried, and as she threw one last glance over her shoulder at the city crumbling to shattered stone and ash, she wondered for a dark moment whether she could possibly heal it either.
Since before Rapunzel's birth, Pallium and Corona had been allies, bound by trade, history, and simple proximity. By the time Rapunzel was grown, with her own son and daughter and a weightier crown than that which had been returned to her many years before, the alliance had become strained.
Many were willing enough to believe the widely-rumored reason behind Rapunzel's kidnapping and imprisonment in Gothel's tower, for her father's search for – and discovery of – the magical healing flower had been widespread and well-known. Imagining, as it was whispered, that the flower's sunlike magic had infused the unborn babe with its power and been the cause of her golden hair was not such an impossibility to many minds. However, not all of them accepted the truth that the power behind Gothel's motives was utterly spent upon the cutting of said hair. After all, Corona was a rich kingdom, blessed almost beyond the expectations of man, and its prosperity only grew under the reign of Queen Rapunzel and her consort, Eugene Fitzherbert.
How could this be, save by wholesome magic?
Still, Rapunzel's hair remained stubbornly brown and her rare tears utterly bereft of the slightest spark of gold. Men of a more poetic ilk compared her frequent smiles to the sun, but never were they witnessed to heal the sick or wounded by their own strength. Moreover, both her children inherited the brown hair of both their parents and their known grandparents, and so the disgruntled, elderly king of Pallium could only mutter against the injustice of hoarding precious gifts to the sympathetic ears of his own court.
"We, who have been Corona's staunchest ally, their most faithful friend, ignored in our poor harvests and denied their aid," he oft grumbled, and his sons and advisors would nod their heads and speak soothing words of agreement.
Rapunzel did send aid when she heard of Pallium's difficulties, but never, the royal court noted, did she bestow the healing light they were certain she still held upon them...and while they themselves were certain, they had no true strength, no righteousness to drive others to their cause, without proof more obvious than Corona's bountiful lands and warm waters.
And so the alliance, tense as it was, held for a while longer.
Further years passed; the old king of Pallium died cursing Corona's lack of generosity in his old age and sickness and his eldest son, Culter, took his place. Then Rapunzel and Eugene's grown son fell in love with a woman, married her, and fathered a child...a child bearing a faint fuzz of golden hair atop his head.
Apprehensive, Rapunzel cut a lock of it herself, and the gold did not wither to brown. She took the child in her arms and sang, and no light shone from the babe's hair.
Relieved, she presented her grandson to the kingdom, pleased in the knowledge that he could not be targeted for a gift he did not possess. But while she, her children, and her kingdom celebrated the new life, Eugene turned worried eyes to the eastern horizon, for he knew something of scoundrels and how difficult they could be to dissuade from even a perceived treasure.
The crown could have been cut glass and gold-painted bronze, and still he and the brothers might have stolen it for its glitter.
Culter of Pallium, to some credit, did not steal into the child's room in the dead of the night to get what he wanted.
Instead, he at first attempted other means.
I congratulate the Prince of Corona and his wife in the birth of their child, missives said. It would be my greatest pleasure to meet with them, and to show them the wonders of my own home in the spirit of our long friendship.
Eugene had made a face at the thought, one part incredulous and two parts defensively dangerous, and refused outright on his family's behalf. Rapunzel sent a reply with far more tact, begging the invitation off due to her daughter-in-law's need for recovery and the child's frail youth. She – somewhat hesitantly, it is true – countered with an offer of their own hospitality, should Culter wish to visit Corona to meet the infant prince instead.
He made no mention of this offer in his next message.
Still the invitations came – to strengthen their ties, to forge new ones, to give tours and tutors alike to the infant prince of Corona. They grew insistent, then belligerent, and then there came tones of caustic threat, as though Corona's reluctance to accept the flowery praises offered had resulted in them withering away to reveal the snake hidden among the stems.
I begin to wonder if our great alliance is nothing more than Pallium paying tribute to Corona with little to no regard in return, the last letter bit. Are our ancient halls too mean for the gilded royalty of Corona? Has the sun so blessed that family, that kingdom? If so, then forgive these rude mortals their presumption to offer their hospitality, let alone their friendship!
Rapunzel tried to soothe Culter's ruffled feathers, but her attempts were met by silence and refusal to trade any more goods. Though the weather remained unchanged from its normal cycles, a perception of dark clouds gathered in the east in the minds of many. Rumors flew, rumors of everything from dabbles into witchcraft to the call for assassins and bounty hunters to the amassing of an army in the core of Pallium, and Rapunzel watched with dread in her bright heart.
Eugene found her perched on a roof one evening, her back to the setting sun and her eyes fixed on the spreading darkness of night. Her knees were drawn to her chest and her arms draped around them, with no regard paid to the richly-made dress twisted underneath her and spread across the hard, ridged shingles.
"I thought it was over," she whispered at length, acknowledging him without a greeting and without moving her eyes from the encroaching twilight. "I thought...my hair was gone, my power was spent. I was normal. I was a princess, but I was normal, and nobody would steal me to use me, or sell me, because of what I could do. And...and now, little Genie...but he's normal too."
"I know, sweetheart. I know he is," Eugene said, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close. She sagged against his chest, the top of her silver-threaded head tucked under his chin, but it wasn't true relaxation; it was hopelessness and fear cutting the strings of her motivation.
"But Culter doesn't, and he won't believe anyone who says so," Rapunzel answered, her voice rising fervently. "Why can't he just believe?"
"Some people..." Eugene paused to consider his words carefully. "Many people, honestly, only believe what they want to. And if there's evidence against what they want to believe, they'll deny it or twist the truth to suit themselves. Sometimes it's because they're more comfortable that way. Sometimes because they're just too greedy or proud."
"Like Gothel," Rapunzel mused, her tone untouched by the bitterness Eugene thought it her right to feel. "Except she knew the truth. She just wanted me to believe otherwise, and so she pretended and denied for me."
"I suppose."
"Culter does that all on his own."
"Except instead of becoming a recluse in a tower, afraid of the world, he's made himself into a pompous, greedy son of a–"
"Eugene!"
"—duckling. What? What'd you think I was going to say?"
That managed to tease a reluctant smile out of Rapunzel. Eugene counted it a victory of sorts, though they both quickly sobered.
"We have to keep him safe," Rapunzel murmured. "Not locked-in-a-tower safe, just...safe."
"I know," Eugene agreed, already thinking through a thief's mindset, gauging all the myriad ways a determined, well-supplied man or group of men could slip unnoticed into the castle after dark, the quickest and quietest routes to and from the nursery, one way with a sleeping babe in arms, and finding too many of them even after years of tightening and upgrading security with that very knowledge.
Then again, even one way was too many in this case.
"Minni would probably be glad to help," Rapunzel continued, and Eugene broke his stream of analysis to roll his eyes.
"Too glad. If a horse can have a complex, that one does; probably because his dad was Maximus, the craziest horse this kingdom's ever seen, and then you had to go saddle the poor colt with the name Minimus. That's worse than Eugene Fitzherbert, which is saying something."
"But I like Eugene," Rapunzel said, giving him a pointed nudge.
"And I'm glad of it. But still...Minimus?"
"It suited him!"
Slowly, steadily, quiet laughter drifted out into the evening air. The darkness was, for the moment, forgotten...
But not gone.
Ash and smoke choked the sky, fire burned white stone black, and while the city's body blazed and broke into ruin, its life and soul scattered to the winds. Oars splashed, sails snapped, carts creaked, and hooves drummed out a desperate mantra: please be all right, please be all right, please be all right...
The prince rode last in their file; Rapunzel heard the swish and snap of sword and rope even over the thunder of their flight and the ringing memory of screams in her ears. She strained to listen, but heard no anticipated rumble of stone. The queen glanced over her shoulder. Her breath shuddered; the road was clear.
Minimus hardly needed her silent command. With an ease that belied his age, he broke pace, wheeled, and charged back towards their failed deadfall.
"Mother!" cried her son, reining his horse in to follow.
"Keep going!" Rapunzel shouted back. Minimus checked his gait once more, allowing her time to speak. "Get everyone to safety."
"The blockade –"
"I'll fix it," Rapunzel promised, "but if anyone followed, there's no time to wait for me. Go!"
He hesitated.
"For Genie," the queen pressed, and her son relented for the sake of his own. Pulling hard on his reins, he spurred onward, following his wife and small child into the shadowed forest.
The net was caught on a heavy branch. Wishing she were younger, Rapunzel scrambled over loose stones to tug on the thick ropes, hoping that even her slight weight would prove enough to dislodge the straining fibers. Something creaked, but nothing gave, and in that moment she heard the distant trample of hooves and faint shouts coming up the road in pursuit.
No time, no time; Rapunzel threw herself into the net, jerking at the rope with all her strength and all the weight her slight body possessed. Her hands tore against the rough fibers and she wished she had let Eugene persuade her to carry a knife at all times.
No time.
A clatter caught her ears through the thrumming of her heart, and white horse hair filled her vision. Minimus strained upwards, sharp grazing teeth reaching for the tangled rope.
"No – get away, Mini," Rapunzel ordered. You'll die...
But the horse, every bit his sire's colt, looked at her with eyes that said he already knew that.
His teeth clamped down hard, inches above Rapunzel's red-stained fingers.
Together, they heaved.
When the soldiers of Pallium arrived moments later, it was to find an immovable blockade stretching across the road, dust filling the air. A few lone rocks clattered to a standstill. The commander cursed, wheeling his company about; the nearest detour was miles around, and by the time they found it the royal family would surely be out of their reach.
Beyond the dust and the rising smoke, the rising moon watched over the fresh tomb of a selfless queen.
And then, carefully, it reached out to her.
Flowers grew over the hill, cheerful spots of white and yellow that rippled in the breeze. Winter's chill had finally dissipated; the early crocus was free to bloom in peace, and the young couple lying beneath the budding oak would not be forced inside by a frosty wind. The lad was blushing, weaving vague gestures in the air as he tried to explain how he wanted to own his own business someday – a florist's shop, though his father wanted him to be an engineer or a mechanic instead. The lass beside him smiled and suggested names for the store, locations, how they could gather what they needed and make it work, and who needed more machines when the world could have spots of life and color instead?
Unseen and unheard, an ageless woman leaned against the other side of the tree and smiled to herself, her sun-gold hair brushing her bare heels. A white horse stood beside her, cropping the grass.
"Another beautiful spring," the woman said, tilting her head back. The breeze swept past, teasing her hair and skirt. The horse snorted, lifted his head, whickered.
"Yes," she replied, "I think we should. Our work is done here."
She mounted the horse bare-back, her movements fluid and light, hardly seeming to exist in the world. They paced down the hill, away from the couple now holding hands and dreaming of their own bright future.
The Spirit of Spring looked over her shoulder at them and smiled again, gentle warmth suffusing her inside and out.
Together, Rapunzel and Minimus passed into the sunlight, and out of sight.