Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I profit from anything concerning these characters and themes. I only write for fun and for the glory of… it. Yeah.
Warning: this contains mature and adult themes, at least by omission.
Gothel was born in a time of poverty, where what we would call cruelty was concerned basic survival skills. It was before the time of fancy architecture and thus before the time of guards upholding the law; a luxury like that can only be offered in a rich and healthy society. Theft, lies, threats and even murder was a daily occurrence in Gothel's early years along with the ever growing need for food and power. As soon as she reached early womanhood Gothel made sure to make use of her looks; her own mother had thrown her and her siblings out when a man offered her marriage if she let them go, and no matter how much Gothel hated her mother for it, it still served as a good lesson.
A good-looking woman could always find someone to care for them – for a price.
Gothel managed to survive and sometimes even thrive in life, but her means was harsh and cold. She always kept a distance to anyone she ever got involved with, cynical and jaded as she was from the start – but in time she learned to hide that. It was then, in her late thirties, a younger man decided to take her as second wife in place of the dead mother of his children, earning her the name Mother Gothel. In those few years she was almost happy, but then came the plague and stole her whole family from her, leaving her weakened but alive.
Hard years followed, where people suspected everyone to have the plague. People got killed for having being bitten by a mosquito. Others denied being sick despite obvious signs, further spreading the sickness. And Mother Gothel got a reputation of being a witch. Her whole family died – how could she survive if not by magic? And her looks had certainly been kept; surely there was something beyond the tangible going on. Some people came to her for help, and she offered those people completely worthless remedies to a high price without feeling too guilty. If they really believed she could cure the plague, did they really think she would have let her family die? Other people said the plague was her fault for doing witchcraft (namely surviving the plague which caused the plague - right) and wanted her dead. By the end of the third year, the latter fraction had the most votes. And so Mother Gothel ran.
She was now no longer a beauty. Sorrow, bitterness and three years of death had taken its toll on her, along with age. This was after all during a time when 50 was a high age to reach, and Mother Gothel was into her forties. Knowing she no longer could use her femininity to survive, she took to the woods. For years she lived homeless, just living from what the forest could give her. And if the forest couldn't offer her anything, a trustworthy knife made sure to keep her fed and warm. But then again, also for a price. Often someone else's life.
Mother Gothel was way beyond caring at this point. Her survival instinct was the one thing pulling her forward, having nothing and no one to live or care for. Maybe that can explain how she could kill a child. Or was that the flower's fault?
You see, Mother Gothel saw the drop of sunlight hit the earth and the flower grow up. She tried to use it, of course, but nothing she did made an impact or a change. Despite feeling the flower's power, Mother Gothel was about to leave the place in her frustration. That's when the child came.
It was a boy of ten years tops, and from the shine of his eyes you knew he wasn't one of the brightest. Mother Gothel had seen him letting ensnared hares loose from other people's traps before, and knew he, unlike her, wasn't a survivor. He was a dreamer. And thus, when this boy saw the flower, he did not try to harvest its magic or powers. Instead, in his joy of finding this miraculous flower, he sang to it.
For four days.
It was during the fourth day the boy's melody and words started to come together. It was a simple, naïve song with strange lyrics that did not make sense to Mother Gothel's ears. But she had seen the flower pulsate with power sometimes during the boy's song and her instinct told her the boy was on to something. So she waited. Then the boy suddenly grew silent. He sat quietly for several minutes, just moving his lips silently to himself, as if practicing. Then he opened his mouth and sang:
Flower, gleam and glow
Let your power shine
Make the clock reverse
Bring back what once was mine
Heal what has been hurt
Change the fate's design
Save what has been lost
Bring back what once was mine
What once was mine
And suddenly, the boy was surrounded by a golden light. It swept up from the flower, over his head and fell around him in golden flakes. Mother Gothel could see his sunken eyes renew their strength, could see the small cuts and bruises heals themselves. Even his short and clipped nails grew out in a nice length. Mother Gothel could barely breathe. What a gift!
But the boy cried.
"You can't bring her back, can you? My sweet little sister…"
And the boy cried, and Mother Gothel waited.
After a long while, the boy dried his tears, sighed and stood up.
"I better dig you up and bring you to my ma." He decided, talking to the flower.
That's when Mother Gothel sneaked up behind him and stabbed his side repeatedly.
A good-looking woman could always find someone to care for them – for a price. A good-looking woman unafraid to bloody her hands and with the power of immortality needed not someone to care for her. Mother Gothel had never, not since the day of her birth, felt more calm and secure.
As long as she could sing to the flower, everything was going to be fine.
And then one day, it was stolen.
Later on, the flower compensated for its inability to revive the little boy's long dead sister by using its very core of power to revive Eugene.
The End.