Chapter 4
The Captain of the Guard fixes his gaze on the hooded figure running ahead, darting through shadowed trees and hopping over fallen logs.
The fog and the darkness of the night obscures the captain's vision, but the figure's long black cloak is faintly seen flowing behind them as they sprint further into the distance, fleeing the band of royal guards on horseback.
Maximus' hooves are pounding against the forest floor as they pursue their target, puffs of dirt flying up behind them. The captain raises his crossbow over his shoulder, arrow loaded and weapon rattling along with the horse's movement.
"We've almost got 'em, boys!" He shouts over to the three royal guards that flank his sides, also riding white palace horses and baring various weapons in their hands. "Don't let him get away!"
The guards shout various commands to the cloaked figure, voices echoing through the depths of the dark woods.
"Halt!"
"Stop in the name of the king!"
The figure weaves from side to side as arrows continuously dart around them, whizzing past the black hood that has been pulled over their head. Arrowheads plunge into tree trunks, sending shards of bark exploding into the air with each missed hit.
The figure turns sharply to the side, ducking out of view in an attempt to lose their pursuers.
The horses follow suit. Just after they do, they notice the forest floor ending abruptly in the distance, immediately ahead of them. The edge seems to stretch on for miles in each direction, and the wall of trees and thick foliage on either side is leading the figure directly to their demise.
But the guards know these woods like the back of their hands. The cliff is far too steep, likely with rocks at the bottom. Anyone who is so unfortunate to fall from it has nothing to meet them below but death.
"You've no where to run! Surrender now!" demands the captain.
But the hooded fugitive does nothing to slow their stride, instead sprinting toward the edge with rising determination.
Horse hooves are thudding louder, gaining speed and fast approaching. The guards are so close now, nearly within reach of their target.
Just as they approach the end, the figure leaps off the cliff, plummeting downward and disappearing from view. Just like that, they are gone, disappearing into the night.
Horses whinny frantically as the guards are forced to pull back on their reigns. Hooves skid roughly to a stop, the animals nearly tumbling over the edge themselves. Pebbles roll over the cliff and fall into the dark abyss below, sending up a puff of dirt in each of the guards' faces.
Suddenly, it is quiet again.
The captain reclaims a steady hold of Maximus' reigns, who shakes out his mane in distress. When the captain peers over the edge, all he sees is a thick cloud of fog below.
The next morning, the highest ranked individuals of the kingdom assemble in the meeting hall of Corona's castle.
The hall is a grand and glistening room with a large round table, hollow in the centre, with purple velvet chairs surrounding the mahogany surface.
A firelit chandelier hangs above, in the centre of a vast and intricately designed ceiling. Deep purple curtains are draped alongside tall narrow windows. Morning sunlight glistens through the glass panels and reflects brightly off white polished tiles. A long crimson rug trails from the meeting table to the tall double doors that lead back to the corridor.
Two royal guards in uniform are positioned on either side, standing alert and baring halberds in their gloved hands.
King Frederic is seated at the centre of the table, with the Captain of the Guard directly across from him. The queen sits alongside her husband, cradling a baby in her arms - with a full head of golden hair poking out from beneath a light pink blanket.
"We pursued the intruder as far as we could," informs the captain, "But unfortunately, we were not able to seize him. He… escaped us, Your Majesty."
"Then we go after him," states Frederic, golden crown glistening atop his graying head of hair. His elbow is on the surface of the table, fingertips digging into his temples, eyes closed in both exhaustion and distress.
"If I may, sir… It's unlikely that he would have survived the fall," points out the captain. "And if he did, I imagine he would have fled the kingdom by now. He could be anywhere."
Frederic lifts his chin then. Calmly, he folds his hands on the surface of the table. "Enlighten me, Captain…" He pointedly meets eyes with the man seated across from him, an irked tone reaching his deep voice, "If you had a daughter of your own, would you not do anything in your power to ensure her safety, no matter how slight the chances may seem?"
The captain presses his lips together, silenced. At the pointed glare in the king's eyes, he shrinks back in his chair. He glances over at the infant princess next to Frederic, cradled tightly against her mother's chest.
The child coos, gurgling soft and meaningless noises. Arianna rocks her gently, brushing the blanket away from the baby's face with her fingertips.
"I don't care if it takes ten months or ten years, this criminal deserves to be behind bars for what he has done," continues the king. "If he is already dead, then I want confirmation. But I will not take the chance of having the attempted kidnapper of my daughter roaming my kingdom, or any kingdom, for that matter. That he did not succeed in stealing the princess does not mean that it won't be attempted again."
Silence fills the meeting hall, with every figure present in the room glancing uneasily over at one another.
The captain nods his head in understanding, unable to argue further. In a level tone, he asks simply, "Where do you propose we start?"
"Anywhere. I want every guard on duty. Send out search parties to the East, the West, everywhere. I want it done immediately."
The captain bows his head respectfully, "Yes, Your Majesty."
Later that night, Queen Arianna sits on the edge of the mattress within her and her husband's bedchambers. The fourposter towers above her, with sheer curtains tied to each post and encasing her in a white cloud.
The evening is quiet, the room illuminated with the crackling flames of the bedroom's stone fireplace. The rest of the castle has presumably drifted into sleep by now, but the queen's mind is restless as she stares longingly down at the pale pink bassinet before her, positioned directly next to the bed.
She admires Rapunzel's sleeping figure inside, tiny fingers and toes curled up as she lays soundlessly in a deep sleep. Her long golden hair is splayed out in silky waves, surrounding her like a sunburst.
Frederic gingerly joins Arianna is sitting on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping down next to her. His eyes are reaching for her own, but she only continues to gaze down at her daughter with a broken expression and a bursting heart.
"We almost lost her, Frederic," she murmurs after a few silent moments.
He sees the events of last night reflecting off her eyes as Arianna stares down at Rapunzel – the worry, the dread, the heartbreak of nearly having their young daughter stolen from them in the dead of night, within their own bedchambers no less.
They had nearly lost everything, before the guards had managed to chase the intruder out of the castle. Then they had disappeared into the woods, perhaps never to be seen again.
"I know," Frederic sighs, his gaze falling with despair.
When Arianna looks over at him, her wide eyes are brimming with fear. "Do you really believe he'll come back?"
The king inhales deeply, wishing he knew the very answer to that question. "I can't say for certain."
"What if they don't find him? What if—"
"Then I'm afraid all we can do is hope, my love." Frederic reaches for Arianna's hands in her lap, lifting them up between their bodies and rubbing his thumb soothingly across her skin. "Hope that Rapunzel will be safe and protected within these walls, for many years to come." He gently puts a hand on the back of her head, pulling her into him and planting a soft kiss on the top of her hair.
With her eyes closed, Arianna breathes steadily against his chest, attempting to calm her racing mind. Her eyebrows are pressed together painfully, and her eyelashes are wet with tears that never quite fall.
She's no so sure she will ever be able to sleep peacefully again, not with the threat of whoever may be out there, threatening to return again. It breaks her in an unimaginable way. The worst part of all of this, is that she knows exactly why it had happened, and she loathes herself for not predicting it sooner.
After a few moments, Arianna pulls away from Frederic, though their hands remained intertwined. She swallows, a part of her hoping to wish away the very words that hang on the edge of her tongue.
"It's her hair," she quavers, "A strand of her hair was cut."
"What?" Frederic glances worriedly over at their sleeping daughter.
"It wasn't just because she's the princess," reveals Arianna.
She had discovered it before him – the strand of hair behind Rapunzel's neck, shorter and much darker in colour than the rest, the strand that certainly hadn't existed the day before.
Arianna has dreaded having to reveal to Frederic what they had feared might come true one day, ever since they had learned of Rapunzel's magic.
The king's eyes dart back and forth as he pieces this information together.
He had done much research on the legendary flower that had healed Arianna when she was pregnant. He'd spent days and nights in the castle's library scrounging for any information he could find on it – its origins, its location, its powerful abilities that it could bestow onto anyone who consumed it. The flower had always been known to be of great value, which is why they'd sworn to always keep their daughter's connection to it a secret, in hopes to protect her and her powers.
"But… how would somebody have known? We haven't told a soul," wonders Frederic.
"I don't know." Arianna has asked herself the very same question countless times since all of this started.
But they had always feared something like this would happen – that somehow, someone would learn of the queen's consumption of the flower, and the healing properties it had granted their unborn child at the time. They convinced themselves it was a gift, for Rapunzel's birth was a miracle that they had only dreamed of after the queen had fallen ill. But Rapunzel is only a year old. They never imagined this would happen so soon.
"Her magic is already putting her life in danger," the queen realizes. "Our greatest fear is becoming true."
Frederic's scattered mind desperately searches for an explanation, a solution, an answer to how any of this could be. But it seems it doesn't matter anymore, because it is too late. Their secret is out now. All they can do anymore is protect their daughter, in any way that they can. Because Rapunzel's safety is more important than her powers. They will not make the mistake of risking her life again.
Arianna inhales deeply, and squeezes her husband's fingertips in her own. "We have to do it, Frederic," she decides, "We have to cut her hair."
The captain slashes his sword through the foliage before him, chopping a branch while perched atop Maximus' saddle. The horse steps over it as green leaves flutter to the ground, the path cleared for him and his rider.
Two other guards on horseback, Stan and Pete, tread through the woods a few paces behind the captain, only to stop in their tracks as soon as they notice what the man ahead of them has suddenly stopped to look at.
They've arrived in an open field of green grass, nestled between distant mountains and a forest of pine trees, miles outside of Corona.
In the distance is a shallow river trickling through the field, and a short wooden bridge dipping over the water. On the other side of it is a towering rock wall, with a waterfall pouring down the edge of the cliff and connecting to the stream. At the base of the cliff, neighbored by pine trees and large boulders, is a charming cottage glistening beneath a bright ray of sun.
It's only one storey, with presumably just enough space for a small family. The straw rooftops create two points on either side, arching over pale masonry walls with small wooden-shuttered windows. A stone chimney protrudes from the roof, clear of smoke. There's a red painted door at the front with a small round window beneath its arch. A large stationary water wheel extends from the side wall, connecting to the river alongside the cottage.
If the guards hadn't been searching for Corona's wanted fugitive all day and all night, the sight of it might actually be comforting. Instead, the possibilities of what may be inside is unsettling.
The captain's first thought is that this is where the fugitive has been hiding since the attempted kidnapping of the princess. Though it is hidden well and deep within the woods, he realizes that would be a foolish decision, considering the sight of it is like a beacon in the night.
Still, the king has ordered they leave no stone unturned. They can't be too sure that the person they're looking for isn't hiding in there at this very moment.
So, the horses tread slowly through the clearing, toward the cottage and across the short wooden bridge.
The guards and their captain all dismount once they've reached the other side, attaching the horse's reigns to a fencepost just outside the house. They retrieve their weapons from their saddles – the captain with his crossbow, and Stan and Pete each with a glistening halberd.
With a silent hand gesture, the captain signals for them to loop around the back of the cottage. As the two guards disappear around the corner, he quietly approaches the front door.
The captain attempts to peer through the small round window, though the glass is too murky and coated in dirt for him to spot anything through it.
Raising his crossbow over his shoulder, he places his other hand flat against the door. He slowly pushes against it, discovering it to be unlocked. It swings open slowly, hinges creaking and breaking the eerie silence.
Rays of sunlight beam through the open door and into the small cottage, illuminating dust particles that float through the air.
At first glance, there doesn't seem to be anybody inside. The place appears to be abandoned. It isn't much, and looks nothing out of the ordinary for a cottage in the middle of the woods.
Warily, the captain steps inside, eyeing his surroundings.
There's a small kitchen to one side of the door. The countertops are cluttered with various dishes, trinkets and potted plants that look to have been long dried out. There's a round table with two wooden chairs, next to a dresser, bookshelf, and a tall oval-shaped mirror along the wall. The living room consists of a tattered couch and a brick fireplace full of ashes. There's a round rug splayed out on the hardwood floor beneath a low coffee table, and a couple of closed wooden doors that lead to other rooms near the back of the house.
The echo of the captain's footsteps break the silence as he slowly walks through it all. Clearly, somebody had lived here once. Though, how long ago that was, he doesn't know.
A faint shuffling noise catches his attention from within the house, causing him to whip around. He aims his crossbow out in front of him, though his gaze initially finds nothing.
The sound had been faint, like another footstep brushing against the floor, though a part of him wonders if he'd imagined it.
As he peers around himself, for the briefest moment, he notices movement behind the arm of the couch in the living room – a mere shadow darting across his peripheral vision that he almost misses.
Raising his weapon once more, he slowly approaches, a finger hovering over the trigger.
The figure doesn't move or make a sound again, both of them fully aware they are not alone. Whoever it is, the captain has them cornered, and they have no choice now but to come out.
What he ends up finding, however, had been the last thing he'd expected. Instead of the cloaked figure from the woods, or any other sort of bandit, his eyes instead meet those of a little girl, sitting on the ground and peeking her eyes out from behind the sofa.
Upon noticing him, she scrambles across the floor in fright, cowering away. All he sees is a head of black hair darting past his vision before disappearing from view again.
At that moment, Stan and Pete burst into the house through what is presumably the back door, with scowls on their faces and their halberds raised up defensively, as if ready to strike.
The captain shoots out his hand in their direction, stopping them from taking another step.
At his command, the guards glance to each other in confusion. After realizing that there isn't an immediate threat as they had thought, they both lower their weapons, following the captain's gaze.
The captain turns his attention back toward the little girl, who is currently still in hiding. Slowly, he sets his crossbow on the floor, then lowers himself to one knee.
"Hey…" he says in the most gentle tone possible, despite the authoritative voice he is so used to using.
After a moment, the girl's forest green eyes peek out from behind the couch again – wide, innocent, and shimmering with fearful tears. Only this time, they don't cower away. Instead, they seem to be rather curious of the three figures currently staring at her.
"Hey, it's okay," continues the captain. "You're safe. We're not here to hurt you."
Stan and Pete fully lower their weapons to their sides, glancing over at each other once more, but the captain's gaze is fixed only on the girl.
As silence fills the room, she slowly pushes herself to her feet. Her tiny hands are still pressed against the back of the sofa as she warily leans out from behind it.
Now that the guards are able to get a better look at her, the captain notices her dark and disheveled hair framing her round pink cheeks, lengthening all the way down her back in curls with a stray strand falling between her eyes. She wears a green dress with short puffed sleeves and a small apron over the front of her skirt. Her socks match the colour of her dress, bunched up around her ankles beneath black leather shoes. By the looks of her, she can't be more than three years old.
"Where are your parents?" he asks.
But the girl doesn't respond. Her wide eyes only continue to peek at him beneath thick eyelashes, and he wonders if she even understands him.
"Are you out here all alone?"
She glances around herself as if expecting to find somebody. When she doesn't, she nods.
The captain's stomach churns with unease. He turns his head over his shoulder to meet eyes with Stan and Pete.
They're standing behind him in silence, looking just as distressed as him to learn that this sweet little girl has been abandoned here. None of them want to imagine how somebody could do something like that, or what the reasoning might be behind something so cruel.
But they don't dare speak of it in front of her, for fear of frightening her more. Instead, their looks merely exchange silent words of concern before the captain returns his attention to the girl.
"Can you tell me your name?" he asks.
"Ca… Cassandra." In a tiny voice, she squeaks out the name slowly, as if trying hard to comprehend the number of syllables.
The captain's lips tug into a grin at that, relieved to know that they are getting somewhere. "It's nice to meet you, Cassandra… I know this must be very scary for you, but if you come out of there, I can help you. And you won't have to be alone anymore. I promise." He dips his head to meet her gaze. "Does that sound okay to you?"
Slowly, Cassandra steps fully out of her hiding place and into the open. She hooks her fingers behind her back nervously, tucking her chin to her chest. Her gaze wanders everywhere but at him, and a frown lingers on her lips as if she is deep in thought.
Then she lunges toward him, wrapping her arms around the captain's neck in an unexpected embrace. Her feet kick up behind her, momentarily leaving the ground as she throws her body forward.
For a moment, the captain nearly stumbles backward from the suddenness of it. Then he steadies himself as he remains kneeled on the ground, her strength proving to be nothing compared to his own.
Completely stunned and unsure, his hands merely hover around the small child that is currently pressed against him, unable to say he has ever experienced something like it before. His eyes widen as he stares blankly over her shoulder, the curls of her hair tickling his chin.
Somehow, it's a comfort he never knew he needed.
The captain softens, a warm smile reaching his lips. With a melting heart, he wraps his arms around Cassandra too, and vows to never let go.
He isn't sure how long the girl had been left here alone for, but he can only imagine her natural crave for nurture - to be cared for the way every child should, though she can't quite comprehend it yet. Being so young, she couldn't fully understand what has happened to her, or why any of it may have come to be.
All she knows is that someone has shown her love, in a way that hadn't existed before, in a way that she has always wanted.
It isn't until they pull apart that the captain notices the twine necklace Cassandra is wearing, and the pendant of a golden flower resting against her chest.
A/N: Sorry, no Cass and Rapunzel this time, but they will be back in the next chapter (and every chapter after that).