a/n: Rapunzel in the movie tells Pascal not to be seen by Gothel. There has to be a reason for that, right?
please read and reviewww
Chapter Two: Mooring Hitch
A quick release knot.
The bird flew in the window.
Until then the day had been going along as usual-well, almost as usual. She woke up Mother with breakfast in bed (her favorite, quail eggs and a strong smelling red drink that she wasn't allowed to touch) but had burnt the underside of the yolk. Usually she didn't do that—at least, she tried her hardest not to—so the fact that something so egregiously not normal and routine had happened should have been her first clue that the day was going to be different than most.
"Ah, my little flower, thank you so much," two pats on the head after dutifully delivering the tray. That was normal.
"You're welcome, Mother." If she could just make it to the main room then maybe—
"Rapunzel, dear."
She paused, one small root raised over the stone floor.
"Yes, Mother?" She bit her lip, slowly turning around. In her bed, more lush and gauzy then Rapunzel's own, with crimson red sheets and an overhanging tapestry depicting a single golden flower, with pillows piled and piled high around her, Gothel looked every inch a queen. Rapunzel cringed slightly at the disappointed look on her face.
"Darling, these eggs are just a little too brown on the bottom. Let's watch the frying pan more closely next time, yes?"
She was grateful when she skipped out into the main room, round and dark because the drapes had yet to be pushed back. She really hated disappointing Mother.
She raced over to the curtains and pushed them back—a window, crisscrossed with veins, let in the golden sunlight and she pushed her bare feet into the warm square it created. The window seat was warm too—she decided to pass the time until her mother finally got out of bed by reading.
Which was really what she always did, she just liked to think it would be more exciting if she pretended that reading after making breakfast was something out of the ordinary.
There were exactly two books currently sitting on her shelf. One was a book of botany, because her mother dearly loved flowers, and the other was a cookbook. She decided that, because she read the cookbook yesterday, that plants would be the better choice. The cover was worn and smooth underneath her small fingers, and as she hoisted it from its resting place she could feel the grooves where her fingers had done the same thing many times before.
For the first time that morning she took stock of her hair, which, despite being slept and stepped on, was smooth and soft. It was, as always, light as a feather, and newly warmed from where she had stepped in the sun. She had recently grown taller, so her hair, as she moved back to the window seat with her reading material, trailed only a few feet behind her.
Faintly, as she settled with her back against the glass and opened the book to a random page, adjusting her golden trail well out of the way behind her, she wondered if it would keep growing, forever and ever and ever.
She had just made it to the chapter nine of the book, Everyday Plants and Their Medical Uses, when Mother burst out of her room with a flourish, velveteen blue gown twirling around her feet. "Rapunzel!" she sang.
She flung down her book, hardly paying attention, as she normally did, to the pages that someone had torn out of the back (for as long as she could remember chapter ten had just not existed—in fact, for a long while she was convinced that the number ten in general did not exist, and that it went eight, nine, eleven, twelve, because there had been no chapter ten in this book). Her mother's arms enveloped her in a warm hug.
"My little flower," she cooed, "will you sing for me?"
This confused Rapunzel. She usually sang every third day, at night. She had just sung to Mother last night. So this—this was not normal.
"Are you feeling alright, Mother?" she was concerned. She bounced up and down a little but stopped as one perfectly sculpted black eyebrow was raised.
"Of course," she seemed perturbed at the question, "but mummy needs to take a little trip today."
Not normal. Definitely not normal.
"But it's not Market Day."
"Yes."
"Or my birthday."
"I know."
"Or anything else like that…" she progressively became softer.
"Rapunzel, honestly, what have I said about the mumbling?" Gothel snapped, swinging herself into the nearest chair and rubbing her forehead. "I forgot to tell you last night that I'd have to go today. Mummy needs a little time for…things."
"Alright."
"I shouldn't be gone past nightfall, if that's what you're worried about."
Rapunzel shook her head stubbornly, ignoring the butterflies that entered her stomach when she thought about spending the night alone in the tower—something she had never, ever, ever done.
"You are eleven, Rapunzel. You need to start to learn to become self-dependent. I can hardly be here twenty-four hours a day for seven days a week my entire life!" She exclaimed.
She hardly registered the comment. Instead she dragged out an old raggedy stool and set it down in front of her mother's plush chair, dutifully handing her a soft-bristled brush.
"Good girl," Gothel smiled, and petted her hair lovingly as Rapunzel began to sing.
She felt the tingling in the tips of her roots, a pleasant, warm sort of tingling. And still she sang, and sang. Today she was going rather slowly, in hopes of delaying her mother from the strange trip, but Gothel caught on to her plan rather quickly and snapped at her to hurry up.
"…what once was mine."
She didn't understand the song. Or the strange sensation that she felt. Or what Mother liked so much about it. ("One day, Rapunzel, one day you will understand…")
"Good girl. Mummy feels much better now." Gothel stood behind her, and went to the large mirror in the corner by the window, pruning at her face and checking her hands and arms. Rapunzel never knew what for, and was more confused than usual today by all the anti-normal that was occurring.
"Alright, my flower, I must go. I want you to clean the tower before I get back. And get started on your next writing lesson," She went over to the stone near the center of the round room and pulled it upwards, revealing a ladder and a dark passage below, "I must be off. I shall be back before nightfall—and perhaps with a gift."
With that Rapunzel watched her mother bundle up in a clock, grab an empty basket, and tumble off down the ladder, making sure to pull the stone back into place before she left. Rapunzel, shocked at the sudden departure, raced to the place where she had disappeared and bent her ear to the cold stone. She heard the loud noise as Mother moved the ladder away from the opening.
She only knew she did that because once she pulled the stone back herself (it had taken forever, but it had been Market Day, so Gothel was gone for an extremely long time buying food stores) and found the ladder missing and no way to follow her mother.
The quickness of the leaving made Rapunzel's stomach knot. She straightened and looked around the round room, spotless except for the botany book she left on the window seat. She walked over to it, no longer in a hurry.
It was splayed open on the blue upholstery, to the end of chapter nine and the beginning of chapter eleven. She took notice, for the millionth time, of the worn, jagged edges that marked the beginning of the missing pages in between the two chapters. But for the first time, in the growing sunlight, she could make out the faintest bit of writing that someone missed.
It was in the margin, a scrawling script with loops and things that made it very hard to read. Also, it looked as if someone had tried to get rid of it entirely and had failed. She tried to sound out the strange looking writing and could only make out two words.
"Sun flower." She frowned, scratching at the margins looking for more secret writing. She found none.
"Hmm." Shutting the book and placing it back on the shelf, she moved to open the only window that did unlatch and pushed it forward, allowing a little breeze inside the round tower room. Sticking her head as far out as she dared, listening for the slight gush of the waterfall and chirp of the birds, letting her golden hair out of the tower for one tantalizing second, she said, to the sky and grass and trees and water and generally no one in particular, "Well, I guess that'll be something to figure out so I won't get bored. The mystery of the missing chapter!"
With that she turned back inside. Grabbing a broom, she started to sweep—it was only just seven, too. It was turning out to be a long day.
It was somewhere between trying to climb the central supports to the tower's roof and trying to mop up the floor for the fifth time that the bird flew it. She heard it before she saw it, a flapping of wings and a musical note that echoed around the empty tower.
Startled at the noise, she swung around; the mop she was holding in her hand came up in what she imagined was a heroic, intimidating pose.
Though she thought it might be kind of hard to be intimidating when she had jumped behind one of the main support poles.
She peered around, mop still in her hand, and looked for the sound of the noise. She found the bird flapping feebly around on the ground, with one wing bent at an odd angle. In the light of the sun it was an odd mix of green and blue, feathers shining.
Her mother had told her about birds, but she had never seen one inside her tower before. They usually flew by the open window, not into it. It gave another feeble little flop on the multi-colored stone floor and Rapunzel dropped her mop and, slipping a little on the still-wet floor, hopped as close to it as she dared.
As she neared the bird it began a renewed attempt to try and take to the air once more, but it had been a miracle that it had made it into the window and to relative safety at all, and it couldn't get anyway. It chirped, scared, and flipped backwards a few feet.
"Shh," Rapunzel didn't dare get any closer. She shoved her hair behind her ears and bit her lip. Looking back at her two books sitting on the shelf, she found herself wishing for a manual on animal care. Finding none appearing, she carefully slid around the bird and towards the small kitchen area. Mother had just recently gone to get food on Market Day, so, when she opened the cabinets, she found various herbs and things and pots and pans and everything was full. She reached around in the back and found the yellow grain that Mother used to help teach her to cook. Pulling out the pink-glass jar, she heaved it up onto the counter and flipped open the lid.
Her hand sifted through the thin, small grain particles before she pulled up a moderate handful. Moving around carefully, so as not to spill, she headed back to the bird.
"Here you go," she was quite pleased with herself. She dumped the grain in a large pile on the floor, but the bird, still quite scared at the massive girl with an even greater mass of hair, hopped backwards again.
Rapunzel frowned. "No, see, you eat it. It's good." She picked up a few pieces and put them in her mouth. She tried not to grimace as she crunched loudly on the bland, hard pieces. The bird stopped its struggle and cocked its head to one side. It tried to fold up its wing but only one fit nicely against its side—the other continued to stick out. Rapunzel thought it might be broken.
"See? I'm not going to hurt you." Rapunzel hunkered down on her knees, skirt and hair flipping out around her. She reached towards the pile and carefully moved a few pieces of grain towards the bird. It hopped forward, and slowly, slowly, bent down to peck up the food.
Rapunzel clapped her hands and laughed, leaning back. The bird had finished up the grain and was hopping closer. She reached her hand out.
It paused once before deciding that she wasn't that big of a threat. "There you go." She lifted the bird up in her palm, standing and trying not to lose her balance. The creature was heavy. "I'm not so bad, right?"
Chirpchirpchirp.
"Here, do you want to sit on my shoulder? I still have chores to do." Namely finish mopping the floor.
Chirp.
"Yes, that's true, I don't know if you could balance with that wing." She pursed her lips. "Oh well! I was almost done anyway." Stepping over the grain she hopped to the open tower window. She set the bird carefully on the sill, where it seemed to look out longingly at the open sky and air, before pulling herself up beside it and letting her feet hang over the edge. She moved the bird to her lap.
"I've never had this happen to me before," she tried not to jostle the bird's wing, "because usually nothing finds the tower. You come from out there! What's it like? Have you seen the floating lights? They happen on my birthday. And, I mean, I know my birthday isn't for awhile but I like to think about them anyway. I wonder if they're stars…I want to map the stars once! Then I'll know."
Chirppity chirp. Chirpchirp.
"So how did you hurt yourself? Don't worry about your wing—I would fix it, if I could, but mother will come back soon and I know she can fix you up. I guess I should give you a name!"
Chirp.
"Hm. Plant."
Chirrprpp.
"Yeah, you're right. Ok, something pretty. Something pretty. Gold? That's my hair color. But not yours. Sky? No. Pie? Ew. Grain? Eh."
The bird fixed her with a baleful gaze.
"How about Sun Flower? Ok, so you aren't sunny yellow or a flower, but I found it in my botany book."
The bird paused a moment, and, realizing that this was the best Rapunzel could come up with due to her currently limited lack of, well, anything, accepted the name and settled contentedly in her lap, broken wing and all.
She couldn't stop her smile as a light breeze played with her hair and the outside of her tower beckoned gold and green.
"I'm back, my little flower!"
"She's here!" Rapunzel had moved to her bedroom sometime after finding Sun Flower and was sitting on her bed reading the cookbook again before her mother came home. She heard the stone being placed back, then: "Rapunzel, come here."
"Stay there," she gently placed the bird on her bed. "Yes, Mother?" She grabbed the railing of the stair as she bounded into the main, round room. Her mother was staring down at the crumbs still lying where she had started feeding the bird.
Oh. She had forgot to clean that up.
The sun was setting, and it lit up Gothel from the back as she turned towards Rapunzel, setting her now full basket on the floor and placing her hands on her hips with a sigh. "Rapunzel, you had all day to clean this up! And what were you doing with grain on the floor?"
"Well, Mother, I had the window open and I was mopping up when—"
"Louder, Rapunzel, and speak more clearly."
"I was mopping up when a bird flew in."
"A bird?"
She raced back to her room and gathered up Sun Flower in both her hands, taking the steps more carefully. Her mother eyed the bird with an odd expression on her face. "Its wing is hurt. Could you fix it, Mother? Please? I named it Sun Flower, and it's the nicest bird ever—"
"Rapunzel, I hardly think having a pet will allow you to get the chores done more quickly. And Sun Flower?" Gothel frowned.
"Please, Mother, I will do my chores fast, I still will, but can you help Sun Flower?"
Gothel sighed, rubbing her temples. She hung up her cloak, moving around the mess on the floor and picking up her basket, placing it on the window seat. She lit a few candles and turned back to Rapunzel. "I will see what I can do, darling. In the meantime, I have a surprise for you!"
She pulled then two new books out of the basket, and it was all Rapunzel could do not to drop Sun Flower in her excitement. She placed them on the window seat and held her hands out for the bird. "I'll try to fix up your bird before dinner. I'm making hazelnut soup! Your favorite."
"See Sun Flower?" Rapunzel whispered, wanting to hug the bird but afraid to hurt its wing. "Mother will fix you right up."
Gothel took the creature and headed into her room, swinging the curtain divider shut behind her. Rapunzel moved towards the books, their titles just visible in the day's last light. Geology and Mathematics: A Basic Guide.
"Rapunzel!" Her mother called from her bedroom. "Why don't you go read your books in your room, yes?"
"Alright Mother!" she grabbed the new books. "Is Sun Flower ok?"
"Just fine, darling."
She headed upstairs, lit the candle by her bed, and began to read.
She did not hear the window open and close.
"Darling," she was halfway through Mathematics when her mother entered her room, eyes downcast, and suddenly her stomach clenched.
"Yes, Mother?"
"I'm so sorry, darling, but Sun Flower didn't make it."
"Didn't make…what do you mean?"
"The bird is gone, my flower."
"He flew away?"
"…yes, yes of course. I'm so sorry."
Rapunzel didn't know why the tears spilled over and didn't know why she felt as if her mother was the cause of Sun Flower's disappearance. She didn't know why she felt the bird hadn't flown away, and didn't know why the small, broken body could be seen in her mind's eye at the bottom of the tower.
Entirely impossible. Every thought.
"This is why pets are bad, Rapunzel," Gothel sighed, sitting down next to her on the bed. Her arms were around Rapunzel and the girl could feel her petting her hair. "They cause messes and pain. That's all."
Sniff. Cry. Stop crying, it was fine. "Yes, Mother."
"Now, let's go make hazelnut soup."