Author Note: I do have a certain reason why Rapunzel's children do not know her as 'Rapunzel'. Mostly, because I don't see them knowing their parents' first names anyway at that age. Another reason is that it will be more fun not having them find out until the very last minute. Of course, their eldest child knows the truth of the matter, but that won't show up until later! Oh, and thanks again for the reviews! :D they are much appreciated! :D
Soli Deo Gloria
Disclaimer: Disney owns Tangled, its characters, and the story. I only own the children and side-notes.
"All right then," Eugene said quietly, "now several more years went by and the girl called Rapunzel grew up to be a beautiful young lady. As she grew, so did her hair, because Gothel would never permit it to be cut. By the time her eighteenth birthday rolled around, Rapunzel's golden hair streamed out behind her, a whopping seventy-feet worth of long, amazingly clean tresses. She also became very skilled with using her hair for various activities. Looping it up, she could use it as a rope to ascend the rafters of her tower room. She sometimes even wrapped it around herself as a blanket, and, when it was very long, used it as a whip to grab door handles."
"Can my hair do that?" Ginger asked, fingering her short mane.
"I don't think so, Ginger-snap. Rapunzel's hair was magical, and yours is not. Sometimes being normal is a good thing though."
Thomas nodded somberly, "Yeah, that way you don't get stuffed into some gloomy tower by a mean, wrinkly dinosaur."
Eugene smiled, "Ah, but Thomas, it wasn't that gloomy of a tower. Rapunzel didn't just sit around bored all day. No, she did stuff."
His daughter looked at him, "What kind-of stuff?"
"EVERYTHING." Eugene said expressively, waving his hands in the air. His youngest children laughed even as his eldest merely rolled her eyes.
The Prince Consort of Corona began to list activities: "She cleaned, swept, waxed, and dusted the tower. She painted—every inch of wall and ceiling available—with designs straight out of her imagination. They were amazing designs full of color and happiness, much like the ones in here." He gestured at the room around them.
Both his children stared up at the many different scenes painted beautifully on the walls. There was the kingdom marketplace filled with smiling people—and the water surrounding the castle with ships skating across its flawless surface—and even the forest that rung the edges of the kingdom, each tree large and green with life. The royal children knew the handiwork very well, considering their mother had personally seen to every inch of the chamber. With the light lancing in from outside through the recently scrubbed, floor-length windows, the airy room appeared to be filled with a warm, welcome glow.
Eugene smiled slightly before continuing, "Rapunzel had many other hobbies aside from painting—though that was her favorite. But she also knitted, sculpted, sewed, did laundry, cooked, played guitar, did ventriloquy and even paper-mache."
"Daddy, what's paper-mache?" Ginger asked curiously.
Eugene shrugged, "I don't know, but whatever it was she did it. Rapunzel also read books—three books—over and over again until Gothel brought her new ones. She played chess, darts, put together puzzles, practiced a little bit of ballet on the side, and brushed and brushed and brushed and brushed her hair."
"All by herself?"
"Well, she had this small green frog for a pet, who she named Pascal. He was her best friend."
Ginger smiled, "You mean like our Pascal? 'Cept he's a chameleon."
Thomas shook his head vigorously, retorting: "No he's not, Gin'! He's a frog!"
"Mommy says he's a chameleon!"
"Nope. Chameleons don't have long tongues like Pascal." To demonstrate, Thomas stuck out his tongue and waggled it at his sister, earning a glare in the process.
Eugene rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "Actually, he may have been a chameleon… I always forget."
"It was a chameleon, Dad." Annabelle said, closing her book and glancing over at her father and her two squabbling siblings.
"You know, for someone who's not listening you seem to be hearing an awful lot." Eugene replied, smiling at his daughter as she retrieved a sewing sampler from a nearby bookshelf.
"And for someone trying to tell a story, you keep forgetting to continue." She said smoothly.
Her father frowned, "Sometimes I wish you weren't quite so much like your mother."
"I know."
Turning away, Eugene was slightly surprised to find his son and daughter in a wrestling match on the floor in front of him. Well—okay, that part was not really surprising. What was surprising was that Ginger was the one who seemed to be winning.
Inserting two hands into the flailing pile of arms, he grabbed each child by the back of his or her shirt and easily separated them.
"Enough." He said loudly, causing both kids to freeze in mid-squirm. "Now apologize or I won't finish the story."
Immediately Ginger cuddled back up to her father and said, "Sorry, Thomas. Sorry, Daddy."
Thomas, on the other hand, muttered a rueful 'sorry' and went back to restealing his slingshot. Eugene pretended to not notice the small hand reaching behind his back, and instead began to speak again.
"Okay, where was I?"
"Pascal—the chameleon." Annabelle said helpfully.
"Right. Well, as I said before, Rapunzel was an amazingly talented girl who could do basically anything you can imagine. Her pet frog—chameleon, sorry—was her only friend aside from Gothel, whom she called 'Mother'. So, when she grew older, Rapunzel confided in Pascal and told him her dreams. One dream, in fact."
Ginger asked, "What was that?"
"Remember those lanterns that the king and queen sent up every year on her birthday? Well, Rapunzel wanted to see them up close because she knew they were special and she felt connected to them, somehow. And so the story really starts on the day right before Rapunzel's eighteenth birthday. As the morning opens up, Rapunzel turns to her chameleon, assuring him that 'Today's the day, Pascal! Today's the day I'm going to ask Mother to take me to see the lights!'"
"Did she ask her?"
Eugene raised his hands, "Hold on, hold on, I'm getting to it. Wow, you guys are impatient. Okay, so there was this one window in Rapunzel's tower that had a hook hanging above it. Whenever Gothel returned to the tower she would call," he cupped his hands around his mouth, imitating a high-pitched holler ",'Rapunzel! Let down your haaaair!' Hearing Gothel's voice, Rapunzel would loop her hair over the hook and toss it out of the window, all the way down the tower and to the ground. Then, being remarkably strong for a small girl, Rapunzel hoisted Gothel up to the tower room as she hung onto her long hair."
Ginger looked at her father in confusion, "The bad lady didn't live with her?"
He shook his head, "Not then. See, when Rapunzel grew old enough, Gothel no longer had to live in the tower to keep her there. By that point, Gothel had tricked Rapunzel into staying in the tower because of all the lies she had told her about the outside world. She restricted Rapunzel's freedom through treachery hidden behind a mask of kindness—and that is the worst thing she could have possibly ever done."
His children watched him, hearing the change in his voice. He sounded…angry. Angry and very sad.
"Daddy? Are you okay?"
Eugene shook his head, breaking away from his dark thoughts, "I'm okay, Ginger-snap. I just don't like this part very much."
"You can skip it." She suggested timidly.
"Nah, you need to hear it. Anyway, Gothel ascended the tower by way of Rapunzel's hair and asked her to sing for her. It had become a ritual for the two of them: Rapunzel would sit on a stool in front of Gothel while she brushed her hair, and Rapunzel would sing the song that made her hair glow and replenish Gothel's strength. So, after singing Gothel's youth back into her, Rapunzel made her request: 'Mother, can you take me to see the floating lights for my birthday?'
"However, Gothel refused to allow it. She had to ensure that her magic flower remained trapped where she could get to her. In an effort to scare Rapunzel away from the idea, Gothel went into a singing tirade about how overwhelmingly evil the world would seem to a girl who was 'as fragile as a flower'. She claimed that Rapunzel would be robbed by 'ruffians and thugs' or wander into 'poison ivy and quicksand' or, my personal favorite, 'trampled by a rhino'."
Thomas narrowed his eyes, "A rhino? Where are they going to find a rhino?"
Eugene shrugged, "Beats me. But, through years and years of these empty lies, Gothel managed to convince Rapunzel that everyone and their second cousin's pet monkey was after her hair. With this list of threats, Gothel frightened her adopted daughter into agreeing to remain in her tower, again. And then Gothel descended down from the tower by using Rapunzel's hair—leaving her with no hope to see the floating lights up close."
His son punched his fist into his hand, "When is Flynnigan Rider gonna beat her up?"
Eugene frowned, "I don't remember you being this violent. Give me back that slingshot."
Thomas returned the weapon for the second time that morning, moaning. Annabelle looked over at her father, "When is Flynnigan Rider going to show up?"
"Well," Eugene rose to his feet, "although you're not supposed to be listening, Annie, I suppose I can answer your question. Now, my dear Thomas, let me tell you about the most interesting character of the story."
"Who's that?" Ginger asked as her father set one foot onto an overturned box to be framed by the morning sunlight.
"Shhh." Thomas elbowed his sister in the ribs, earning a glare he did not see. Instead, his eyes were fixed on the man before him—his hero, the swashbuckling, brave adventurer, Flynn Rider.