My second story for the tree challenge. My last one was happy, this one is going to be a little more bittersweet. I'm writing about Gothel, but it shouldn't be too terribly angst filled. Well. I make no promises, anyway. This one is also much longer.
I do not own Tangled. The writing is mine.
OooOooO
"In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: It goes on."
-Robert Frost
Gothel hadn't always been Gothel. Or, at least, hadn't always been known as Gothel. She'd been born Aishe. Just Aishe. No last name, because gypsies didn't have last names. They had names to identify each other by, and they married, but they did not take last names.
They had no need of them.
"Your name means 'alive,'" Her mother had said, thick accent coming through her broken English. Aishe knew both the gypsy language and the one that her mother spoke right now. Her Daji - mother - had insisted on it.
"I tell your fortune for penny!" Her mother called out on the streets. "And the little one reads palms! Come, get your fortune!" The street was busy with other competing vendors, also crying out for customers.
"Fish, fish, get your fish!"
"We sell the best jewelry in all the land! You there, yes you, with the blonde hair! This necklace would look fabulous on you, no?"
"I am the spice merchant! Come and see my wares!"
It was a chaotic mass of pandemonium, and Aishe loved it.
Their jobs were all just a sham, of course. Aishe could no more read palms than she could words, and she doubted that Daji knew how to tell fortunes either. She suspected that this was the reason they rotated from city to city in their colorful cart of magic. So as not to get caught.
In the Autumn it was Corona, Sicil, and Crel. In the winter it was Dander and Florin. In the spring and summer it was Cracher, Oel, and Perch. These were the cities, and she knew them well.
"Learn the streets and alleyways," Daji coached. "They become helpful someday, Aishe. Learn them for Daji, okay?"
She was seven, and summer was just beginning. They had started with the city of Perch this year. The commoners fair had come to the city, and she and her mother were planning on setting up their act - their job - at one of the booths.
"Ah, yes, I see," Aishe traced the palm of the larger woman, not looking up from her work. Around her she could hear the laughter of screaming children, the sound of decorative ribbons in the wind. The smell of all sorts of food hovered around the place, making customers form lines around the food booths.
"You seem to be rather gullible, yes? Easily taken in by scams?"
"Why, yes! How on earth did you know?" The woman peered down at Aishe with complete fascination. Aishe gave a mysterious smile.
"The palm tells me all. That is all I can say. A penny, if you please." The woman handed her the money, still staring at the girl with amazement.
"I've never seen a gypsy with grey eyes like yours," The woman muttered thoughtfully. "Come to think, I've never seen eyes that color at all." She peered down at Aishe's eyes, as if they were part of the show.
"When I was but an infant moon dust fell upon me. I was born with eyes of any other gypsy, but ever since they were touched with the dust they lost their original color. They are now what you see before you."
"Extraordinary," The woman breathed.
"Yes," Aishe nodded. "But I must be on my way. Do not forget to visit my mama at the fortune telling stand." She gave a quick little bow, and with the skill of a street urchin wove her way through the throngs of people.
Someone always managed to mention the eyes. Her pale, grey, silver like eyes that stood out amongst the other gypsies. When Daji was young she had fallen in love with a townsmen, a thief on the streets. Enraged, her family left her behind. She married him and had Aishe, but after that the story was a mystery. Daji didn't speak of why they now traveled alone in their cart, or what happened to him.
"I hate my eyes." Aishe had said once, after some boys from a different caravan had teased her.
"You do not mean that." Daji held her face in hands, kissed the top of her head. "Your eyes are beautiful."
"No. I hate them." Her mother just shook her head.
Aishe slipped through people almost effortlessly. She had known both the wilderness and the city, and was perfectly fine in both places. She preferred the city, using the masses of people like a covering. They were her cloak, and if she stayed in the midst of them long enough she would be invisible.
"Hey, hey you!" A boy of nine or ten ran in front of her, causing her to stop. She regarded him warily. He had a lopsided grin, and tousled brown hair and brown eyes. Mischief was written all over him.
"Yes?"
"Will you read my palm?" He offered her his hand. It was rough with work and tanned by the sun. He had to be a farmers boy.
"That costs money. I do you for free then I have to do everyone for free. Nothing personal." She tried to move past him, but he followed her.
"I guess that's fair." He wasn't fooling her, she could hear the disappointment practically dripping from his voice. "All I got is my money for food."
"A pity." Aishe replied unemotionally, weaving even faster through the crowd. It didn't seem to matter, because the boy was keeping up just fine. A farmers son shouldn't be able to do that, she thought. It seemed to come natural to him what had taken years for her to learn.
"My name's Asher. What's yours?" He bumped into her as she stopped abruptly. What was with this kid? Other kids who were curious left after the first couple minutes, but Asher's insistence was rare.
"Aishe."
"That's a neat name. Is it your real name?"
"Yes," she muttered back through gritted teeth. "It's my real name."
"I live down the road a bit from this fair. There's a big old sycamore tree, you can't miss it. It's huge. You want to meet me there tomorrow? We could play pirates or something." He gave her the crooked grin she'd seen earlier. "Whadya say?"
"I have work tomorrow." She turned just as she saw his face fall. Perhaps it was because she found him curious, perhaps she was looking for something new to do. Whatever the reason she added "But I'll see if I can get tomorrow off."
OooOooO
He hadn't been exaggerating when he said that the tree was huge. In fact, it might have been a slight understatement. It had to have been around for years and years. It kissed the sky, and Aishe could feel herself fall in love with it.
"You came," Asher was up in it, looking down at her. She shrugged.
"I had nothing better to do." She had several things she could have done, but her interest had been pricked.
"What do you want to play? We could play pirates, or explore. We could be or do anything."
"Explore?"
He nodded.
Well, it couldn't hurt, she supposed.
OooOooO
Aishe could tell when her mother was getting antsy to move on. They had stayed a month in Perch, which was a fairly long time. She suspected that Daji had stayed this long because she had liked Aishe spending time with Asher. But they had to move on sometime.
"I don't want to go," Aishe muttered unhappily as she added her recent collection of pennies to her mothers. Daji looked at her with a little bit of sadness, but her mouth was firm.
"We have to go."
"No! We always go, but there's never any reason. Please? I like it here in Perch." A look of pain flashed across Daji's face.
"We can't stay. People don't like our kind of people. Do you understand? They aren't stupid - they catch on to our tricks."
"Asher doesn't mind. Asher likes me for me." It was true. Asher hadn't ever once treated her differently than anyone else.
"Asher is a very special boy. More people should be like him." Daji paused a moment. "But we take these people's money, you understand? They don't like that."
"They fork it over willingly. They like it."
Daji just shook her head.
The next day she trudged her usual path to the sycamore. Usually she practically ran until she got there, but today was different. Today was the last day to see the sycamore's glory, to feel the wind take her breath away in it's branches.
And Asher. What was she going to tell Asher?
"Why do you look so down?" He asked just as soon as he saw her. He was perceptive in a way that had sometimes unnerved her. She was used to it by now.
"Daji and I are moving on. Tomorrow." She felt a lump form in her throat, but she ignored it. Tears were for babies.
"Going?" The disbelief in his voice stemmed from the fact that he hadn't thought about Aishe leaving. She was here, he had guessed, forever. Of course, she was a gypsy, they moved around. He hadn't even considered it.
"So…I'll never see you again?"
Aishe shook her head almost violently. "I'll come back next summer." Asher regarded this skeptically.
"No, really. We do this in cycles. Here," She pulled out several beads that decorated her hair. She dropped them into his hand and closed his fingers around them. "I'll have to come back for these, now won't I?"
The lopsided grin returned.
OooOooO
She fulfilled her promise every year. Every summer they returned for the fair and Perch and then some. Daji allowed two months, begrudgingly, and they always made the best of them.
After their two months he always showed the beads to her. "I suppose you'll be needing these back now," He'd say. Aishe would just smile. "Keep them, I'm just not ready for them yet."
Every summer brought its changes. They each got taller, their faces maturing with time. When Aishe was fifteen she couldn't help but notice that he was more of a man Asher than a boy Asher. He had muscles, tanned skin from all his time in the sun, facial hair. He was - though she'd never say it - rather attractive.
The summer she was sixteen brought changes. Daji was older, wrinkled and grey. Her voice didn't carry its mysterious magic through the people like it once did. And there was this rattling cough that she'd had since winter that she just couldn't shake off.
Then there was Asher. As they had gotten older they had stopped playing by the sycamore, but instead up in its high branches they talked. They went through the city, they explored the alleyways.
Not this year. This year Asher was cold and distant. His aloofness was baffling. She couldn't understand what had caused the change in him, but it was there just the same. She had made other friends over the course of the years, but still…
None of them were Asher.
"I read your palm for a penny!" She called out, amongst the other vendors. "I also tell your fortune!" Daji wasn't feeling well enough to do the fortune reading. Aishe did both these days.
"I'd like my palm read." She raised her eyebrows. It was one of Asher's friends. She thought maybe his name was Danny, but she wasn't entirely certain. She motioned for him to come forward.
"I see," She murmured, going through the routine. "You are a confused soul. You wish for different things out of life." This usually worked, as most people wished for various things out of life.
"How did you know that."
She just winked at him.
"Danny?" It was Asher. He looked between them uncomfortably. Something in his face hinted that he was upset, but Aishe was rather tired of his mood swings.
"She can really read palms. She told me about myself." Danny shot Aishe a look filled with amazement. There was also a bit of star struck wonder on his face that made her uncomfortable. Asher noticed it too.
"Not really," She muttered.
"Has she ever read your palm?' Danny asked. Asher paused a moment before shaking his head. It was rather odd to think that after all this time she hadn't used her "gift" on him.
"Come here," Aishe motioned towards him. He walked up slowly.
She could feel the calluses of his hands, years of hard work making them permanent. She glanced up and caught his eyes, those brown eyes that knew everything about her. There was a soft smile on his lips. The lopsided one that she knew so well.
Something had changed between them, made even more aware by her thumb on his palm.
The next day found them both in the sycamore. They were quiet, almost a little awkward. She felt herself aware of her bare feet, beaded hair and mismatched dress.
"Danny's a nice guy." Aishe said. Asher grunted something in response.
"At least he talks. There are some boys who won't say a blasted thing." She still got no response.
"He's nice looking too. Maybe we should get together sometime." Finally.
Asher gave a strangled cough. "You wouldn't like Danny. He's…so…he's so…he's not the boy for you."
She hid a smile. "What a shame. He seemed so available."
"It just can't be helped." Asher nodded. "Not that you can't date him or anything, but I just don't think you're compatible."
"I suppose you're right." Aishe gave a sigh. "And who would you suggest? You know, that would be compatible."
"Well…There's always me I guess."
"Do you mean that?" The question hung in the air a moment.
"I did, actually. To be quite honest, I've been in suspense for some time now. I didn't think that you felt, well, the same you know. So I…"
She shushed him, eyes bright and happy. "I'm crazy about you. Did you know that?"
The wind whistled in the tree.
OooOooO
Daji didn't last the summer. It was awful and terrible, and absolutely heart rendering.
Much to Aishe's regret, it was also a relief.
She hadn't told Daji about her and Asher, and now there was no need to move. Daji was buried under the sycamore tree. She'd never told Aishe about her father. But then, Aishe had never really asked.
Your name means alive…
Asher's parents weren't especially thrilled that he was marrying a gypsy girl. Aishe couldn't exactly blame them - she had made her living through some conning and dishonesty. Which is why she changed her name.
"Gothel?" He asked. "Gothel?"
"I think it fits."
"Aishe fits."
She smiled. "You're sweet. But it's better this way."
"If you say so."
Gothel wore boots. Gothel wore a commoners dress. But some of Aishe remained. She liked bright colors that showed off her dark hair, and the beads that she had given so long ago.
It was seven years. She had seven years with him.
Seven years seemed like a long time to others. For Gothel it wasn't near long enough.
It had been quick, and in her memory it took seconds. The man with the evil grin, the sword that flashed and how she had closed her eyes, expecting the blow. How he had jumped right in front of it, how his blood spilled red all over the place and how his eyes dimmed.
She remembered escaping. She remembered how bright the sycamore tree burned.
Seven years. A few seconds.
OooOooO
Gothel stopped counting her age after she used the flower. She just knew that she lived a very, very long time. Longer than she wanted to know about.
Your name means alive…
And so she was.
OooOooO
I know, a little vague at the end, but that was a LOT of writing. Please leave a review! And please, I really would love to read anyone else's tree challenge stories. They can be for anything - books, movies, anime, television - just go for it.