Soli Deo Gloria

DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Tangled.

We started to do what we normally do. Rapunzel started sweeping and I held the dustpan firmly so firmly that she swept dust in my face. The strawberry tasted much better, I shall let you know. We polished and waxed and did laundry and mopped and polished everything including the stairwell that Gothel (shudder) liked to have clean.

We, as usual, picked out our very favorite stories to read, about rocks and roses and cakes. 1/2 cup this, 1/4 teaspoon that, yeah, I have this memorized, and so did she. This, as you might have guessed it, got boring, very quickly. Very boring. She, with little ol' me on her shoulder, placed the books back on the shelf. She threw her hair on the beams that held up the roof. I crawled up the wall very carefully, balancing a paint plate with my tail, and she started painting her lovely paintings.

She brought out her guitar that she had adorned herself with pink flowers and strummed as hard as she could. I hung myself in an old rag set up as a hammock and watched her bang at her guitar as I softly moved side to side.

She then proceeded to finish knitting a scarf she had started yesterday. I sat on her shoulder as she chased the ball of yarn and sat down comfortably on the seat. As she added stitches to it, the mass of woven yarn got all Tangled. She stopped and sighed as I gathered it all and managed to get it on her lap. She flashed me a grin, and I was like, "Why is she smiling at me?"

She then put me on the table next to her and started to wrap the piece of clothing around me. Albeit, it was scratchy, but it only being late April, I liked the warmth. I had to cross my eyes to watch her as the thing grew bigger and bigger around me. "Thank you, Pascal," she said warmly; she fairly glowed as she set herself about the task.

We normally start preparing things for lunch (even though it was only nine in the morning) at this point but Rapunzel wanted to paint some more. "I just want to finish this one picture, Pascal, before Mother comes back. I can't get it off of my mind," she said as she looked into my face hopefully. "Sure, I didn't mind," my face said. She grabbed me and we twirled around. She had started a painting yesterday; she was going to burst with joy when she was finished. It was a picture of the floating lights and of her watching them on the top of a tree. What are floating lights?

Every year, for some strange and weird reason, the night sky would suddenly, very late at night, fill up with floating lights! They'd glow and weave lazily through the breeze. They had come from up north, so they had to have come from Earth. Rapunzel had told me about them the first birthday I was here.

"And they just . . . float around, and they are mesmerizing. Pascal, my dream is to see them up close, not from a smelly old tower," Rapunzel smiled dreamily. "That's my dream."

When I had first watched them with her, I understood exactly what she meant. They were beautiful.

Reality hit! She was talking. "Come on, bud," she said as she put her arm on the floor in order for me to climb it. Palette in hand, she used brave and bold strokes with her large brush and then replaced it with a detail brush as she patiently and tenderly added floating lights. I sighed. That painting was complete and gorgeous.

"Oh, Pascal, how I want to go see the floating lights this year. I'm almost eighteen! I think I might ask Mother. She whispered as if in awe of her artwork.

With a contented sigh, she gave me a hint and jumped down from the mantle. She started packing up her painting box. "This is it; this is a very big day, Pascal," she giggled as she closed her box, and straightened up. "I'm going to do it; I'm going to ask her!" she squealed. Why, this was the best news I've ever heard! Rapunzel, asking Gothel to go see the floating lights? Awesome! I gave her an encouraging smile and a thumb's up as a voice drifted up from the ground.

"Rapunzel," said the all too familiar voice. Rapunzel gasped in delight. "Let down your hey-ar!"

"It's time!" exclaimed Rapunzel. I gave her a hopeful look. "I know, I know! Don't let her see you!" she replied as I was placed on the wall. She carefully hid me behind the curtain. I turned black though, just in case.

Rapunzel skillfully brought that old woman up and they started to talk. I turned red with anger as Gothel kept teasing Rapunzel. I was mad. She couldn't do that! Rapunzel didn't know better when Gothel said she was joking. I knew. I knew she wasn't joking.

Gothel had Rapunzel sing for her; she looked bright and perky again, a lot less scary now. Ugh, she kept putting off Rapunzel. Rapunzel looked at me with a defeated look. I gave her an encouraging nudge and she—she blurted it out. Well, at least she did it. Gothel was less than happy, though. She tried to tell Rapunzel the same things she tells her every single day. Rapunzel is up to the challenge, though, and she gave that woman one heartfelt speech.

But not only did Gothel not consent, she started singing!

I was shocked, to say the least. She started singing a song that weirdly enough had a tune, but also words that penetrated deep. Sticks and stones, Gothel, sticks and stones. She starts to almost dance about the tower, scaring Rapunzel, on purpose. I was mad, as usual, and she ended her horrible song that I cannot, repeat, cannot get out of my head, by forcing Rapunzel to promise that she would never ask to leave this tower, again. Rapunzel agreed! Oh, all the shattered hopes she and I felt.

She let down that Gothel and Gothel was . . . happy. I was mad at her. When she went away, Rapunzel turned to me and sighed. I gave a weak smile and patted her hand. We tried. We failed.

Thanks for reading! Review?