Gothel
I pushed open the creaking door and stepped inside, Rapunzel cradled gently in my arms. The room was quiet, dimly lit by the fading orange light of dusk bleeding through the window. I moved toward the bed and laid her down with care.
"We're here," I said softly, brushing a lock of golden hair from her face. "I have a question for you."
She sat up slowly, her eyes searching mine, and gave a hesitant nod.
"Where's the tiara?" I asked. "I'm planning to scout the mainland—and check the tower while I'm at it."
She hesitated, glancing away for a moment before answering, "It's… under the floorboard at the stairs."
I nodded and turned to leave, but paused when I caught the look on her face. Her eyes were downcast, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Um… c-can you not hurt Mother?" she whispered, almost too softly to hear.
I froze mid-step. "You mean the witch who kidnapped you?" My voice was sharper than I intended.
"Y-yes," she replied, barely audible.
There was a long silence. I looked at her—really looked. Her hands trembled, and her lips were pressed into a thin, anxious line.
"You're a fool," I said at last, my voice calm but cold.
"I know," she whispered, her eyes glistening.
I watched her for a moment longer. The weight of everything hung between us—her pain, her loyalty, her confusion. Finally, I sighed and turned away.
"Fine," I said, heading for the door.
"Thank you," Rapunzel said quietly behind me.
I didn't look back, but the words lingered with me as I stepped into the darkening hallway, the door clicking softly shut behind me.
Later That Night
I moved silently through the forest, the only sounds coming from the soft crunch of twigs underfoot and the distant rustling of nocturnal life. My eyes scanned everything—the glint of moonlight on rivers and ponds, the curve of branches, even the way the bushes shifted in the wind. I was scouting. Searching. Watching.
Eventually, I stood before the narrow path that led to the clearing where the tower stood—Rapunzel's tower. The trees parted like sentinels, revealing the towering stone spire in the distance. I stepped forward, muscles tense, senses sharp.
The clearing was quiet. The rock walls still shielded the tower from the outside world, keeping it hidden from those who didn't know where to look. But something was different. I could feel it.
I approached and stopped at the base of the structure. There—where yesterday there had been no way up—were newly revealed stairs. Jagged stones and scattered pebbles littered the area, evidence that the obstruction had been moved recently. Someone had cleared the way. My eyes narrowed.
I activated my heightened senses, listening beyond the wind, beyond the trees. Nothing.
Without a word, I ascended.
Inside, chaos. The tower was in shambles—furniture overturned, broken glass glittering in the moonlight, books torn from shelves and strewn across the floor. I swept the room with my gaze, then moved swiftly to the stairwell Rapunzel had once pointed out.
It was open.
And the tiara—gone.
I cursed under my breath and turned on my heel, racing back through the woods. I didn't stop. Not until five minutes later, when I saw light flickering in the distance. A building—maybe a cabin, or a tavern tucked away in the trees. The kind of place no one would stumble upon unless they knew where to look.
I stepped up to the door and pushed it open.
Eyes met mine. Dozens. Every head turned, silence falling like a dropped blade. Rough men, cloaked figures, travelers with dirt-streaked faces and twitching fingers. This was a room full of dangerous people. Good.
I stepped inside, shut the door behind me, and faced them.
"I'm looking for someone," I said, voice calm, unshaken.
No one replied.
I continued, "A witch."
Still silence. But now they listened.
"She's taken something from my people. Whoever finds her will be rewarded handsomely."
They didn't move. But their eyes flicked to each other.
I raised my hands. With a flash of gold, coins shimmered into existence, conjured from my inventory and dropped at their feet. The sound was sharp in the silence.
"This is just an appetizer," I said. "Whoever finds the witch gets ten times this amount."
That got their attention. Eyes widened. Breaths caught. Greed was always louder than fear—at first.
"She has long black curly hair. Or she had. By now, she may have aged—rapidly. White hair, sunken skin. She uses magic to stay young, and she's desperate without it. She wears a deep red velvet gown, has a sharp face, and stands tall. Remember that."
I paused—but before I could say more, two men stood and approached. They looked like twins—one with an eyepatch and a sword at his waist, the other carrying a blade across his back. They had the build of mercenaries and the overconfidence to match.
They stopped a few feet from me. The one with the eyepatch grinned.
"And what's stopping us," he said, "from taking it off your corpse?"
I didn't answer.
Instead, I raised a single hand—slowly—resting my fingers gently against his chest.
"What are you do—"
He didn't finish.
With one sharp movement, I struck. A one-inch punch. Silent, fast, precise.
He flew back like a ragdoll, smashing through the tavern doors, crashing into a tree outside. His body crumpled to the ground, unconscious, a perfect imprint of my fist etched into his chest.
The room froze.
Mouths hung open. Some men swallowed hard. Others backed away. I let my hand fall back to my side.
"Anyone else?" I asked, eyes scanning the stunned crowd.
They shook their heads in unison—vigorous, wordless.
Good.
"I will return in the morning," I said firmly, my voice echoing slightly in the silence.
I turned and stepped toward the door, hand reaching for the cold iron knob—when a hesitant voice broke through the stillness.
"W-wait…"
I paused, my fingers just brushing the metal, and turned to see who had spoken.
It was the other brother. The quieter one. His eyes darted between me and the floor, nerves twisting his expression.
"What is it?" I asked, my tone sharper than before.
"I-I know where the witch is," he stammered.
My gaze darkened. I took a step closer. "Where is she?"
His eyes flitted toward the shadows outside. Slowly, with a trembling hand, he pointed in a direction just beyond the edge of the clearing. My eyes followed.
There, half-shrouded in the gloom, stood a figure cloaked in a heavy hood. Her face was lost in shadow, but her presence was unmistakable.
Without hesitation, I moved—silent, sudden, and swift.
In a blink, I was before her.
She gasped, stumbling back as I reached out and pulled back her hood. The fabric fell away, revealing a pale face twisted in fear. Her wide eyes met mine, and I saw the truth in them.
She was the one.
Her lips quivered, but no words came. None were needed.
Her fear told me everything.
"Gothel" I said coldly.