"Immortal"
Gothel clutched the infant princess Rapunzel tightly in her arms as she raced away from the palace. The baby's wails tore at her ears. The full moon was much too bright, as if it thought it was the sun. Gothel's heart raced. Any moment the king's dimwitted guards would be after her.
Exhaustion nearly overwhelmed her as she hurried down the cobblestone street, her ancient bones and muscles aching. Reaching the dark seclusion of the forest seemed to take an eternity.
Gothel breathed deeply with relief once the moonlight was obscured by thick trees. She sank down at the base of one and, gingerly cradling tiny Rapunzel, sang to her. The child stopped crying and her thick hair took on a brilliant golden glow, just as the magical flower used to. Refreshing warmth washed through Gothel, along with a renewed energy. Her youth had been temporarily restored once again.
Her euphoria quickly ebbed into anger. If only I could just have left the baby behind and simply taken a lock of that golden hair! she thought. Why did it have to shrivel up and turn dull brown the moment I cut it? Now I'm stuck with this child.
Gothel looked down at Rapunzel, bathed in the moonlight seeping through the branches. Her hair had returned to its normal blonde shade. She was a cute little thing with huge green eyes and chubby red cheeks. But she'll never be a great beauty like I was . . . am. Still am.
An unexpected affection for the child swept through her. Rapunzel was that magical flower, transformed. Gothel certainly needed her more than the king and queen did, that was certain. They would only spoil her, turn her into yet another conceited royal. She was doing the child a favor.
And, in exchange, she would remain young and beautiful forever. That was the most important thing in the world to Gothel.
Besides, the king was the one who took that glorious flower from her in the first place . . . to use as a medicine to heal the queen. It wasn't fair! She was the one who'd discovered that flower, so it was hers.
Her mind churned as Rapunzel fell asleep in her arms. Gothel's memories went back so far that she'd lost track of how long she had been alive. It had to have been centuries. She had started out as the most beautiful girl in her village. Oh, how her parents had doted on her! And all the boys in the village longed to marry her but she refused to give them the satisfaction.
The elders had told her that looks fade but love lasts forever. Gothel refused to have any of that. She longed to be admired for her wit and charm. . . but mostly her beauty.
To her great despair, the years passed and she gradually aged. She had seen enough of what happened to old, unmarried women in their village, often deserted and left to starve. She had vowed that would never happen to her. But, no matter what she tried—eating nothing but fruits and vegetables, coating her skin with mud-based unguents, rinsing her hair with dyes—her youth completely faded. Gothel shuddered whenever she passed a mirror or a smooth pond. Her hair had become lank and gray, her skin deeply wrinkled, and just walking a few paces exhausted her. She was old.
Garbed in a hooded cloak, Gothel had wandered deep into the forest to hide from the other villagers. Just the sight of beautiful young women and laughing children filled her with an envy that burned like poison. She had become what she'd feared: an ancient spinster no one wanted around.
That was when she had stumbled across that mysterious flower, gleaming like the sun in the darkest heart of the forest. A joy she hadn't felt for years throbbed through her. She knew instantly that it possessed a deep magic. Its perfume was sweeter than a hundred roses when she knelt to sniff it. Warm light washed over her with a feeling like rich velvet. Her withered skin smoothed to its original pearly luster and her scraggly gray hair was once again thick and dark.
She had never felt such euphoria. That flower was the key to immortality and Gothel wasn't about to share it. She was determined to keep it hidden . . . which worked for eons.
Now she had the infant Rapunzel. The child continued to slumber in her arms. There was an ancient tower deep in these woods, a place no one but Gothel knew about. She would hide the child there and raise her as her own. A place where she'd never be found.
As long as Gothel had Rapunzel's magical, incandescent hair, her youthful beauty would last forever.
The End