Rapunzel stumbled down the stairs rubbing her eyes, her hair trailing behind her. Her bare feet automatically took her straight to the kitchen where she spent the majority of her life perfecting how to be neither seen nor heard. She flipped the lights on and started the ovens on autopilot, her mind still on her dream she was ripped from.

She had been a baby, which was odd. She was also in a much larger room, which was also weird, as she had had the same room above the café for as long as she could remember. There had been a mobile above her crib, with suns and stars and crowns hanging from it. Then there were people there, one lady and one man; She couldn't quite remember their faces, though she knew they were friendly. Loving even. If she could just remember the faces…

"RAPUNZEL! Oh dear, I didn't even see you there flower! You mustn't sneak up on me like that!" Her mothers voice shook her out of her trance and when she glanced at the clock she realized it was already almost 5:30 and she had completed most of her prep work.

Rapunzel stretched and yawned a "G'morning" to her mother. She rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hands and looked at Gothel.

Gothel was beautiful, in her way. Her beauty matched her name, as she had a very classic, gothic-era inspired look to her. Her blue eyes had a cold glint to them and could harden in an instant. Her curly hair was long and dark, with bangs framing her sharp features. With her high cheekbones and her pointed nose she drew eyes easily; with her neat, trim figure, she kept them.

Yes, Mother Gothel was a gorgeous woman. There was the oddest thing though; no one seemed to know her age. While on most days she looked to be only a few years older than her daughter, some days she seemed to be younger or to have gained a few years that weren't her own. Rapunzel was the only one who noticed when Gothel would return from long trips looking ten, fifteen, even twenty years older. She took these trips sporadically enough that Rapunzel just assumed it was the worry. Worry for the store, worry for Rapunzel herself, and worry if she didn't make that delivery in time.

Whatever the cause, Gothel would return with more gray in her hair, more laugh or frown lines on her face, with her eyes a little more sunken and her body thinner. And Rapunzel knew that she was to pull up a stool in front of her mothers' chair, place a brush and her hair in Gothels' skeletal hands, and sing. She only ever sang one song for her mother, but she never tired of it, and it seemed to do the trick. Rapunzel would feel this surge, almost like an electric current, pass through her and into her mother. Then the song and moment were over, with Gothel running to a mirror to examine her face from every which way, all while dismissing Rapunzel with a wave of her hand.

Now though, Gothel looked just fine. The appropriate age for a woman with a grown daughter to appear. She glanced around the kitchen in satisfaction before patting Rapunzel's head.

"I'll be back in a bit my flower. Take care not to ruin everything while I'm gone! I love you so much, darling."

Rapunzel smiled half-heartedly. "I love you more."

Gothel was already out the back door, throwing a thin sweater over her shoulders. She turned slightly as she was closing the door and recited the final line. "I love you most."

Rapunzel let out a sigh of relief as she watched her mother move across the yard through the small car she had. She peeked her head into the dining area and let out an ear-piercing whistle. A young man, a few years Rapunzels' junior, poked his head out the door leading to the back hall. This was Pascal, Rapunzels best friend since she was ten and he first started wandering around. He had been seven and lost, his parents having been mugged and left for dead coming home from the market. He had managed to get away from the 'red mountains' as he called them, and ran as far as he could. When he stopped though, he had no clue where he was. He found the café that way, and Rapunzel playing in the yard after Mother went to sleep.

She had been cautious and curious about this crying little boy. She had never been allowed around new people, not even other children. Mother kept her away from people, told her about awful things people have done. But Rapunzel had always been more curious than cautious and so she approached the boy. He told her his story, and she immediately brought him into the café and fed him a bit of what they had left over from her dinner. Then she gave him blankets and a pillow and led him to her closet. She knew Mother would never allow her to keep him if she knew.

So for years, Pascal slept in Rapunzels closet, playing in her room while she was working in the café, hiding if Gothel came in the room. The two became fast friends, and Rapunzel spent many nights holding him while her cried over his parents, and while he swore revenge on the red mountains. Eventually they both grew to the point where sharing a room was becoming uncomfortable and awkward, so Pascal moved to the cupboard under the stairs.

He had less freedom here, but more privacy. The days Gothel left were the best because Pascal would come out and help Rapunzel. They would flip the open sign around and get to know the customers. Gothel never knew about these days, and the village slowly began to hate her for her cruelty to her daughter.

So when Rapunzel whistled him out, Pascal knew today was one of those good days. He strode out into the dining area, flipping on lights as he went and opening the blinds. When he opened the door and flipped the sign around, he saw a couple people starting to wander out into the street. He grinned and waved at a few before going back into the café to help Rapunzel in the kitchen.

When he walked in, Rapunzel turned to him with a huge grin on her face. "Today's the day Pascal! This is it; I'm really going to ask her! When Mother returns tonight, I'm asking her to go see the city. No backing out this time!"

Pascal raised an eyebrow and just shot Rapunzel a doubtful look which she ignored. He rolled his eyes and headed to the walk-in refrigerator.

"No really!" she said almost to herself, turning back to the bread she was kneading. "Today is a very big day!"