Okay, so after a re-read of this story, I realised it had a lot of loopholes and things that didn't make sense, so I decided to write a bit of history about Summa, Sylva and Teresa. Hopefully after I've finished it will be a bit neater. I was originally going to leave this to the end, but since I've kinda got stuck in a rut with the Rapunzel and Eugene part, this is a sort of mid-story prequel. Don't worry; I'll go back to the original story format soon. And it's going to go over two chapters. I hope you enjoy! Sorry this took ages, I suffered severe writer's block and this took many, many re-writes. Tangled doesn't belong to me, darn it!
Four hundred years ago, three girls lived in an orphanage, each as beautiful as the next. Summa had beauty that was almost other worldly, as if she were a perfect china doll, or an illusion that would fade in a puff of smoke, too sweet to be real. She was fascinated by plants. Her three most prized possessions were a crate filled with seedlings in milk bottles, a thick dusty book in which she pressed leaves and seed heads, sketched things she could not press, and wrote her findings with a tiny stub of a pencil, and her flower. She kept the crate and book under her bed, hidden by an artfully arranged blanket, but the flower went everywhere with her, in a small pocket she had sewn on the inside of all her garments. It too lived inside a milk bottle full of earth.
Sylva was the opposite entirely. While Summa was dark, with a mysterious air and quiet distress, Sylva was bright, down to earth, and brimming with happiness. Despite this, she never spoke, only laughed. Sylva laughed a lot. When the other children kicked, jeered at, or hit her, she only giggled. When the matrons or dinner ladies or maids scolded and punished her, she chuckled. She burst into hysterics at random moments, tears streaming down her cheeks. She wore a pair of green velvet boots which she refused to take off. Indeed, when the matrons tried to pull them off, they would not budge. In her left boot she kept a little green notebook, which she was always scribbling in. No-one could read what she had written, because it appeared to be in a foreign language, or perhaps a language she had invented herself.
Teresa had a lot of hair. It flopped over her eyes and her face, ran down her back in twisty little braids, and flew behind her like a cloak when she ran. She was a petite girl, who had beautiful green eyes and delicate features behind the brown locks. Teresa painted. There were forever flecks of paint in her hair. She painted whatever was her's, her books, her sheets and duvet, even her clothes and shoes. No-one knew where she got the paint and brush from, or indeed where she kept such possessions, because when the maids searched her and her dorm, they were nowhere to be found. She was a mystery. Her voice was squeaky, and because of this, and the colour of her hair, she was The Mouse, and her timid nature made her the primary target for bullies.
They were friends, these three little girls. They shared a birthday, though Teresa was a year Summa's senior, and Sylva was a year Teresa's senior. They played imaginary games, games of dragons and princesses and mermaids and quests and ghosts and monsters. It didn't matter that Sylva didn't talk, or that Teresa kept tripping over her hair, or that Summa always seemed to be so twitchy. Together they were heroines, able to slay beasts and perform magic. But times change. They grew up, and their pretend fantasy didn't come to life as it used to. They grew apart, their friendship still there, but fragile as glass. One mistake and it would shatter.
And shatter it did
When she turned sixteen, Sylva was kicked out of the orphanage. She had no money. She had no voice. She had nowhere to go. In the end she became a beggar on the cobblestone streets. She stopped laughing. She stopped smiling. She only cried. Pity bought her food, but not enough to keep her well. She was starving.
And one day, she began to sing.
It was not a happy sound, rather a sound of hopelessness and heartbreaking sorrow. But it was beautiful. It cut through the air, making people shiver. Women wept. Men slumped to their knees. Children curled up on the cobblestones, shaking. Sylva's sorrows seemed to become their own. Only one listener seemed to be unaffected. A boy in a raggedy cloak stepped through the crowd of broken figures. He stopped beside the singing girl, and laid his fingers on her arm. She stopped her song. His touch was warm. His eyes were concerned.
"Are you okay, Miss?" She nodded. It was obvious to the boy that she wasn't. She had once been beautiful, he realised, once full of love and laughter. Those days in her life were gone. He wanted to help her. He wanted to bring her back to what she used to be.
"My name is Andrew." She nodded.
"Tell me your name, pretty girl." She turned away.
"Huh?" she twisted back to face him, and pressed a piece of silver in his palm.
"Why-" she gestured vigorously between herself and the silver.
"Silver… Oh! Your name is Silver?" she smiled. It lit up her face and melted his heart. And with the smile, the people in the street who had been hit with the heartbreaking song smiled too. They got to their feet, wiped away tears, and hurried away, more than a little muddled.
"Come with me." He said taking her hand. She allowed him to pull her to her unsteady feet. He saw the full extent of starvation. She was so delicate, so matchstick thin, he was afraid she would break. He picked her up in his arms, for she weighed nothing, and carried her to an inn. A silver bell jingled as he swung open the door. The place was lively, the smell of alcohol very strong. A woman stood behind the bar, lovely and expressionless as a marble statue. She caught sight of Andrew, and then of Sylva. Her eyes widened, and she rushed over.
"Sylva? Sylva what happened to you?" it was none other than Summa. She swept Sylva away from Andrew and half led, half carried her behind the bar.
"Soup? Can I get some soup please?" the woman was like a whirlwind, and Sylva was wrapped in a cloak and being fed warm chicken broth before Andrew could open his mouth to protest. He grabbed Summa by the arm as she rushed past. He was caught momentarily off guard by how cold her skin felt, despite the roaring fire a hive of activity.
"How do you know…I mean what… how?"
"She and I grew up together. Teresa! Teresa come here!" a girl rushed from the crowd, her face flushed. Her braided hair appeared to be tied around her waist.
"Get this man a room. And while you're at it, fetch me some blankets."
"This way sir." Her voice was squeaky.
"But I want to stay with Silver!"
"Silver? Sylva! Sylva's here? Summa, Sylva's here!"
"I know that, Teresa. Just get that man into a room, and keep him there, for heaven's sake!"
"Come right this way."
"But-"
"I said, this way!" he subjected, letting her shoo him in the direction of a staircase. Glancing over his shoulder, he caught Sylva's gaze. She smiled at him. He smiled back. And when he fell asleep in his tiny room, her song haunted his dreams.
Part one, complete. And before I say anything else,
FROZEN WAS THE MOST AMAZING THING I'VE EVER SEEN OH MY GOD THE FEELS THE AMAZING ANIMATION LET IT GO AND IDINA MENZEL MASHED TOGETHER PERFECTION I CANNOT DESCRIBE MY LOVE FOR THIS MOVIE!
Ahem. Moving on…
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