Fractured Fairytales: Rapunzel

[Katya]

The enchantress suddenly stopped in her tracks and straightened, posture turning cheerful as she flipped back some of her long, dark hair. "Great!" she said, clapping her hands together. "Now, you don't even bother coming to get me when she's born - and it is a she, by the way - I'll just come over here and pick her up myself. Oh, and one more thing."

She vanished from thin air, then, and for several moments it was silent. Then there was a tap at the door, and she opened it up, a donkey with a cart of fruits and vegetables on their front step. "As promised, of course. I hold up my bargains, you see. It's best you two do the same," she added, her voice dropping from the cheerful octave to the low, dangerous on. She looked from Oriana to Gawain, and then smiled brightly again.

"See you in a few weeks!"

And with that, the witch unhitched the donkey and left the cart alone on their porch.

[Cassidy Clark]

Gawain went ridged, but it was a very controlled sort of stance, a fierce withholding of movement rather then the absense of it. Oriana, however, had frozen as though made of ice when the witch had vanished and reappeared and left the door standing open. And then something - he didn't know what, she didn't know what, but something - it just seemed to snap.

She shouldn't be running, she really shouldn't, but at the snap that was almost audible, lines of pain so sharp they could almost be seen, she did. Oh, not far. She couldn't run very far, but she got out the back door and to the edge of the yard, almost falling next to the tree. "Oh, what have I done?" she whispered, to herself or to the world or both. The wind picked up.

She stayed there, under the tree, for what might have been seconds or might have been years, a part of her not ever wanting to set foot indoors again. Or not indoors, just that house. Crazy, impractical - finally he came out after her and then, after another small eon in which stars were born and died, they went back into the little house and lived, as best they could. Despite the fact that it had become almost hateful, it was good that they had the produce from the witch's garden, having little else around to eat. So they survived on that, and in just under two weeks a child was born - a girl, just as she'd said.

[Katya]

Elke had been biding her time up to this point, though she hadn't been home much. Rather, she'd been preparing. She'd selected a lovely plot of land and had a tower constructed, where she would stay at the base, and her daughter to be would stay at the top. It had a beautiful view, one any respectable mother could want for a child to grow and watch as the seasons came and went and the landscape around them change.

Not two days after the birth of the child, she came back to the house, and tapped at the door. She was giddy with excitement - her first husband, the miserable warlock that he was, had denounced her as barren. She looked at her perfect nails as she tossed her hair aside wistfully. She'd turned him into exactly what he was - an ass, and now that ass, or donkey as it were, faithfully tilled her gardens for her day and night, immortal forever as her little servant. Life was better with him as the donkey. He was much more agreeable when he relied on her for his very existence. It was something Elke relished, as she did now, waiting for the door to open.

"Come now!" she called. "I want to see my daughter! Don't make me wait, I hate waiting," she warned, the threat of impending doom looming in her melodic voice that could so easily turn a heart cold.

[Cassidy Clark]

He didn't want to answer the door and she didn't want him to answer the door, but in the end....

Oriana hugged the tiny form closer to her and willed time to stop; the infant wriggled in the blankets. But it didn't and the witch was outside the door and time was marching on, inexorable.

"Come now! I want to see my daughter! Don't make me wait, I hate waiting."

Feeling as though the action would break his bones, Gawain opened the door and let her in. Oriana sat in the first room, holding her child tightly. She looked up and tried to think of something to say, but she couldn't.

[Katya]

"Merry Christmas to me," she sang as she came right on in, pushing Gawain aside to walk towards Oriana and the infant. "Let me hold my little girl, hm?" she cooed, holding her hands out.

It was hard to believe the witch was as wicked as she was - from the looks of it, she seemed still youthful, with rosy cheeks and bright eyes, and a smile that could break your heart. Although it seemed to be heart breaking all the smiling she'd done lately, what with her irreversible bargains and all.

"Now, don't be shy, I won't hurt her," she said, trying to coax Oriana into giving her the child. She really, really didn't want to have to take her forcefully, but that didn't mean she wouldn't.

[Cassidy Clark]

Oriana just looked at the other woman for a long moment, then closed her eyes and held out the baby, allowing her to take the infant into her arms. It felt like her heart was being torn out, but there was the bargain and... oh.

Nothing to do, nothing to be done, this was what happened and what was.

~*~*~

ick, short

[Katya]

"Wonderful," she said, holding the little girl gently in her arms. She turned, burying her nose into the blanket, nuzzling the child lightly. "Why, hello there, my little darling," she sang to the small girl. "Don't be scared, I'm your new mommy."

She headed towards the door, and glanced over her shoulder at the couple. "Don't look so heartbroken. You can have more children." She paused, and then glared at them. "And if you ever try to come and take her from me? I'll kill all three of you."

This was one bi-polar witch. She switched back to her happy, new mother self, and made kissyfaces at the baby. "Be seeing you!" she chirped, and with that, she vanished.

[Cassidy Clark]

And Ava (Avalon, really, but she was often just called by her nickname) grew up in the witch's care - and there was Mother and there was Ava and that was all that there ever was and ever had been, other then the trees and the birds and the animals. She was a kind, bright, happy child who charmed the sparrows and the small creatures of the trees for companions, and lovely for a girl - she was her beautiful, golden mother in miniature, her honey-colored eyes often sparkling with some new delight.

"Mother?" she'd asked when she was young, "what else is there?" In the world, of course.

[Katya]

Elke would brush Ava's hair often before bed, and that was when the question would arise. "My darling," she began one night, setting the brush down on the bed. "Come here, turn around." And when Ava did as she was asked, which was always, Elke tried to find the right words to express the world to her.

"The world... is a complicated, cruel place. It breeds hate, greed and filth around it, and it gets so bad that you can't even breathe anymore. It makes people betray you, and bargain for things that aren't theirs to give." She paused. She wanted to scare her, partially - Elke never wanted Ava to leave her. Of course not, she loved this child like her own. She'd had her fair share of mishaps with other people, and now, finally someone who loved her unconditionally? Elke wouldn't ever let that go.

Ever.

"The world is a bad place, my sweetest songbird, and we will remain here in our forest away from it, away from the corruption of the others. They would do terrible things to us if they found us - harm us, rip our clothing, take our freedom, make us slaves to their hatred-driven ways. The world is not a place for us. This is our place, my love. This forest, this tower, safely hidden from prying eyes. Do you understand what I am saying?"

Elke looked into Ava's eyes, a very severe expression on her face.

[Cassidy Clark]

She loved it when Mother brushed her hair, and she'd lean back against her as the brush moved smoothly, rhythmically, soothingly through her gold silk hair, gently working through any tangles that there might be. It was ritual, as were the stories. And yes, that was when she'd ask the question, and that was when Mother would tell her that the world was wicked and cruel and hateful, all except their small haven in the forest, this tower, where the rest of the world didn't quite reach, where it was Mother and it was Ava and that was all that mattered.

She didn't want to see the world, particularly, but that didn't mean she wasn't curious.

"Are there sparrows?" she would ask, when her sparrow friends would twitter at the window, black eyes shining bright and friendly, little sparrow heads cocked to the side as they hopped and twittered, as though inviting her to come and play with them.

[Katya]

Elke would sigh. "Once, my love, there were many sparrows, but the others ran them all away, and drove them deep within the wilderness. There were all kinds of birds, some you'd never even believe to see unless you were standing before them, and even then? Doves, robins, even peacocks, birds filling the skies with laughter - except for the vain peacock, who prefers to walk," she would add with a wink.

"But now, most of them have gone away, or simply passed on. Your sparrow friends that come to the window, though, they fled and came here, with us. They know the truth - that the world is harsh, and that this is simply a better place."

She would kiss Ava on the forehead and tuck her into bed, and then vanish from the tower.

As the witch grew older, her powers became less sturdy, and she found one day, that she had to call up to Ava.

"Ava, darling, I can't seem to get up! Why don't you throw your hair down the side and let me try to climb it? I promise, I'm light!" she sang. "I've brought you some treats, and I can't throw them all the way up there and keep them in tact!"

[Cassidy Clark]

Her hair was long, of course her hair was long - Mother loved her golden hair and would only cut the ends to keep them healthy, not cut all of it, so as Avalon grew her hair grew long indeed, and Mother would come at night and brush her hair, brush and brush and brush, then braid it in coils. But Mother wasn't there always, of course. Avalon didn't resent the fact, or not really. She tried not to; Mother would come and she would go, but she kept Ava in the tower to protect her from the world which would hurt her if they let it, but she'd long grown tired of the room and the room below.

When she was younger Mother had showed her games to play and had stayed more with her, but now that she was older she had to leave more, and Ava was left to count the stones in the walls and the ceiling and the floor.

One time, for her birthday, Mother brought her a large stack of snowy white paper and inks - black ink, red ink, blue ink, yellow ink - and Avalon had lost herself in drawing, but drawing wasn't enough and, no matter how echonomical she was, there wasn't always paper, nor was there always ink. She found a stone with a broken corner that was sharp, and when there was no paper and there was no ink and she wanted to shed her skin and sail away, she might force herself to calm down or she might draw with it. She scratched pictures, being careful to keep the small drawings under her pallet, where they wouldn't be seen. Mother could be fussy sometimes, and that might be one of those times - you never knew. Sometimes, especially when Mother wasn't there, the room felt like a prison, like the walls were somehow collasping in on themselves and Ava wanted to go out and see the forest, at least, that she could see from her window. But she couldn't - the walls were high and they were steep.

One day she heard Mother call to her, telling her to let down her hair so that Mother could climb it like a rope. Slightly dubious, but nonetheless obedient, she'd tossed her golden hair out through the window and leaned out, grasping the sill as Mother almost seemed to breeze up her tresses.

"Hello, Mother," she'd smile, and the itching at the base of her spine to move, to do something, would be aliviated for a time and once again there was Mother and there was Ava, safe from the world.

[Katya]

Elke climbed into the window, and sat down, brushing her hair from her face. It had begun to change, and a streak of gray washed through the center, wrapped around in a bun, though strands still escaped. She was petite still, beautiful still, but her heart had become less kind as age had approached her. Her youth was leaving, and the reflection she looked into no longer pleased her.

Still, she loved Avalon, and wanted to try and bring her things to make her happy. "Here, now," she said, opening the basket she'd carried up with her. "I've brought more paper, more ink, and books. Really, why don't you try writing something? You draw and read so much, I bet you could write a lovely tale of your own," she offered, holding them out to her.

"I also brought you some plums from my garden," she said, producing them from the basket before she set it down. She left out the entire fact that they were the reason she was there, among other delightful appetizers for her selfish, greedy biological mother.

"What's wrong, Ava?" she asked, sensing the girl's desire for motion.

[Cassidy Clark]

Avalon looked up in some surprise from the basket which she'd been examining - more paper, and more ink, and books and plums. "Wrong, Mother? No, nothing's wrong." And, in a way, it was quite true. In more then one way, now. Mother was here, and that always helped alleviate the itch at the base of her spine that spread on through her limbs, the desire to do something, anything, just so long as it was different, alleviated the monotony, almost painful, of stone walls on all sides and a world only a few yards square.

There was the world, of course, that would get her if she left - but more then that, though it had never been said out Mother had seemed (to Avalon, at least) to have hinted more then once that there was someone looking for her, and they would hurt her if she let them. The tower, therefore, was safe and thoughts of wanting to leave for any reason were a kind of craziness in itsel :-\f. But some days she wanted to slip through the cracks in the walls, for something different, even if she didn't leave. But the window was what she had.

"Nothing is wrong. Thank you for the paper, I know that it can be hard to find it." Paper was precious, as were the inks, and that made them more treasured.

[Katya]

Elke stared at Ava for a moment before nodding. She didn't quite believe her answer - the bit about nothing being wrong that is. Ava was grateful for the paper and inks, and Elke knew this to be true. She had not raised a girl who was spoiled and cared for nothing, that was certain. She smiled a little, wondering if her biological parents knew just what they were missing. She hoped it dug into them every day, the wondering, the not knowing, all of it. She hoped it drove them mad.

"You're welcome. You know I'd bring you anything you asked for, my darling." She smiled, though she was beginning to suspect that she couldn't keep Avalon in this tower much longer without either chaining her to the wall or giving her some sort of incentive.

"Is there anything you'd like for me to retrieve next time?" she inquired, tilting her head. "Anything that would bring my princess out of her little doldrum?" She knew Avalon got bored - that was no secret. She wondered what she could bribe her with for a few days at least.