I wrote this as an answer to AlexLarder's prompt (It's too cold out) on Airplane's FixExchange on Tumblr. Hope you guys enjoy this! Reviews are much appreciated!
Arm outstretched, lips apart, her eyes focused on the single drop of snow that that was almost touching her fingertip.
There.
It landed gently on the white, numb tip of her finger and she quickly withdrew her hand and held it close to her face. She marveled at the tiny details etched into this small, apparently insignificant bit of snow. It was as if an invisible force was holding the threads of water and any moment it could disappear and they would snap. And surely, as the warmth from her palm spread towards the tips of her finger, the threads were cut and the flake turned to a tiny water droplet before her eyes.
An inexplicable sadness stole over her. Was she like this too? Could someone just as easily cut up the threads that held her together and she'd disappear too? Where would she go after that? And there was no one to answer that. Mother would only balk at her bringing up the subject of death and what lay beyond that. She remembered the first and last time only too well.
"Mother, where do dead things go?"
Gothel's head had snapped in her direction. Rapunzel was standing at the bottom of the staircase holding onto the remnants of a potted plant.
"Will I ever die? Will you ever die?"
The cold, steely eyes and the harsh feel of a hand slapped across her cheek was what she remembered feeling next and she had tumbled onto the stairs behind her, the dead plant rolling into a shadowy corner.
It had stung for days. There had been a sharp intake of breath and the next moment Rapunzel found herself on her knees with Gothel's arms encircled around her, rocking her to and fro, profusely apologizing as she pressed kiss after kiss into her hair. She had closed her eyes and let a few tears roll down silently but hadn't said anything. It was ok. Everything was ok.
She turned her eyes towards the sky and falling snow, folding her hands beneath her chin, elbows resting on the windowsill. She could stare at it forever- frozen streams, blanketed meadow.
The smaller trees were hunched from the weight the night gently put upon them, while the wizened, gnarled ones stood sentinel at their spot, as unflinching as ever, proudly bearing the snow like they did every year.
Snow. She liked it because her mouth made a funny shape as she formed the words on her lips. She loved it because her first memory of it was waking up one white morning, turning to the windowsill and finding that last night's storm had caused some white fluff to gather on the sill. And she remembered running her hand over it gently, relishing the cold, the lightness. She was most upset when the first rays of sunlight crept up and she found in the next hour, her very first pile of snow had turned to water. And as the seasons changed and her winter wonderland melted before her eyes, she felt as if she was slowly watching a friend disappear.
Sometimes, she felt as if she would burst trying to contain herself from jumping pell mell into the white blanket that surrounded her tower.
What would it feel like beneath her feet?
Between her toes? Could she catch one snowflake on her eye lashes?
Would her feet sink into it?
And the shapes… Oh the possibilities…
She knew it could take whatever shape she wanted to give it, but whatever gathered on her windowsill every year was far too little to fulfill the extent of her imagination. She imagined replicas of herself in white littered all around the meadow and couldn't suppress the laugh that burst from her lips at the thought of Mother waking up to such a spectacle.
A gust of wind blew into her face and she closed her eyes, relishing the feel of it. What she wouldn't give to know where it came from, to follow it, to seek it out and then to be surrounding by it, holding it close. She could feel it make its way through her heavy tresses and she relished the sensation of the cold, cold wind on her skin. A sigh escaped her lips and she could not help but smile at the breath that fogged in front of her.
There was no window by her bed.
A few moments later, after failing to fetch Pascal out from under the stove, she was wrapped in her familiar, worn blanket and seated atop her windowsill, feet tucked beneath her and toes curled. It was a good thing Mother wasn't home. Rapunzel had a feeling that staying by the window all night wouldn't sit too well with her.
But tonight, nothing would stop her from sitting there till the Sun came up even if her feet grew numb and her nose grew red. It was cold outside the Tower, too cold. At the moment, she felt at home and for the first time in a long time, she looked at her surroundings with affection. It was all she had known all her life, all that was hers. The murals and the potted plants, the staircase and the shelves full of things she had made through the years.
But as she turned away, the round, white moon and deep, white snow seemed to whisper, "But dear, there is more. So much more."
And a single tear drop rolled out from beneath a closed, ghostly eyelid.
He was almost home. Well, it was the closest thing to a home he had, and he had never been gladder to see the familiar turrets and towers of the looming Castle. His arms were aching from the hours of rowing, he was disgruntled at having to wade his (well, not technically) boat through icy waters, and above all, he was sick of living like an average scrounger. After years of pilferage and petty theft on the seas, he was ready for something bigger. And home was the perfect place for new beginnings, now wasn't it?
Flynn cast a glance behind his shoulder at the misty waters. He could still make out the silent masts of the ship that he had journeyed on over the past few weeks. As the boat touched soft ground, he swiftly disembarked and mock saluted the now almost invisible Ship. 'Thanks for the ride, the food… am I forgetting something? Ah yes- The boat!"
An hour later, he found himself wading through knee deep snow, desperate for dry clothing and a warm broth. His eyebrows contracted at the grim possibility of finding either anytime soon. It was still dark out, and he had miles to go before he would reach the first thick timbered cottages. Cottages with unlocked doors and sleepy, trusting cottagers, perhaps warm boots left beside the door and a coat he could easily snag from the closet of some sleeping villager. He almost missed his warm fire-lit cabin in the Ship, where he'd been comfortably residing as the Lord Bartimus of Belmont, who was so very grateful to the brave sailors of Corona for their hospitality and kind heartedness as to allow him to sail with them to their humble land.
But now, he had bigger fish to fry than free meals and fake identities. He stopped in his tracks. Scratch that last part.
Maybe it was the oppressive, bitter cold air or that last pint he's had on the ship finally catching up with him, but with each step he felt more and more lightheaded. Thick brown eyebrows were firmly set, and try as he may to frantically rub his hands together to salvage some warmth, the chattering of teeth was starting to sound rather eerie in the otherwise deathly quiet forest.
The next moment, he found himself falling face first into the snow, foot caught in one of the many roots of age old trees that lined the pathway. 'Oh to hell with it all,' he thought, staring up into the chink of sky visible through the entwining branches overhead. It had stopped snowing hours ago, and the stars were particularly bright tonight. He gazed up for the longest times, lying in the snow. The tip of his nose was a turning a bright shade of red, and a thought was creeping into the back of his mind, something about a frozen smolder, but he was too tired to pay much heed to it. Something thick and heavy was flowing down the side of his face. He reached up a hand and felt warm liquid. His eyelids were getting heavier by the minute. An icy wetness seeped in through his clothes and a dullness overcame his senses. He was cold, too cold.
The last thing Flynn Rider remembered was an eye patch under a shock of orange looming over his head.
"Right little ungrateful rat, that Rider," Buff Stabbington lamented.
"Apparently these days, the fashionable way to repay someone for your life is to incite them into a crown heist, make way with the goods and then leave them to rot in prison while you make dandy with owner of said crown…" said his brother.
"Don't talk like that Tuff, it makes me feel like a moron."
"Hate to break it to you, brother, but you are a moron."
"Eugene… where are you taking me? This is silly."
He could not help the sly smile on his face as she tightened her arms around his neck.
"And since when have you not liked silly? You know, you seemed to have put on some weight since the last time I carried you. l'm out of breath."
A sharp kick to his side silenced him on that account.
"How much farther?"
"We're almost there. Make sure that blindfold is nice and tight now."
"Oh don't worry, I can't see a thing back here! Have I mentioned how much I love piggy-back rides? We should do this more often."
"Eh? I didn't quite catch that."
She nuzzled her face into his neck, loving how it warmed her nose momentarily. Moving her face side to side, she relished the sensation and her arms tightened around him.
"Well, here we are!"
Still blindfolded, he set her down gently. Instantly, she froze.
There was something different about the ground. It had never felt so light before, so crunchy beneath her feet.
"Eugene what-"
The blindfold was removed from around her eyes. Instantly, they flew open and green eyes widened at the scene before them. Snow, stretching out for miles around them. Snow, covering every single tree and plant in sight. Snow, sitting upon the ground, untouched.
"Like it?"
She turned to him and whispered, "How did you know?"
He shrugged his shoulders in a nonchalant way and ran a hand through his hair, but his eyes never left her face, gauging her expressions.
"Ah, well… Since this is your first winter away from, you know… and I assumed you never really had a real snow day… And I know how much you like to make stuff out of nothing…. So I thought I'd-"
His words were lost in a yelp and the next moment he found himself in a familiar position, only this time, it was Rapunzel's face above his, her eyes speaking what he needed to hear, her lips that had caught his, and her warmth that was spreading through his whole being.
"I'll take that as a yes."