by Casey Lane
“I have agreed to make myself available to our people this afternoon,” Conrad asks. “Will you join me?”
“No,” I answer as I watch our daughter sleep. She yawns, wrinkling her tightly-shut eyes, and then her face softens once again. “I’ll stay here.”
Conrad kisses me once more, and then he leaves for the afternoon. I turn back toward the cradle, but then I sense movement behind me.
“Did you forget something—” I turn and then gasp, “Rune.”
He stands by the open window, looking a little older, a little more solemn. His eyes travel over my gown, and his expression softens. “You seem well, Greta.”
Speechless, I gape at the Alfar I loved. The young girl I once was wants to run into his arms, but the queen—the woman I am now—remembers her husband and stands as if frozen in place.
Rune’s gaze slowly moves to the cradle behind me. I step in front of the tiny princess, as much to protect her as him. He looks as if he’s in turmoil, as if simply being in the room with me pains him.
“What are you doing here?” I finally ask.
He turns his eyes on me, his familiar amber eyes. Then, so quietly I almost don’t hear him, he whispers, “One year ago, you made a promise. I’m here to collect.”
My world shifts, and I suddenly feel as if I’m going to faint. It must be bad, whatever it is. He said it would be.
“What do you want?” I ask.
He rubs his hands over his face, a movement so familiar it hurts. “Your daughter.”
“No.” I shake my head as the terror overwhelms me. Then, again, I hiss, “No.”
When he takes a step forward, going for me or for my baby, I’m not sure, I pick up a vase as if that will protect her.
“How could you do this to me?” I demand as I edge toward him. Hot tears build in my eyes, but I don’t bother to blink them away. “I loved you.”
Rune steps forward, easily wrangling the vase from my grasp, and sets his hands on my shoulders, holding me tight. “I’m bound, Greta. I’m bound by the council; I’m bound by the magic of the promise—the promise you made.”
Realizing it would be all too simple for Rune to overpower me and take the princess, I grab his tunic and beg, “Please…don’t do this.”
I’m about to fall on my knees and grovel when a familiar golden disk catches my attention. He’s still wearing it after all this time.
“I’m a prisoner to the promise until it’s complete,” he whispers, realizing where my eyes have traveled. “There’s only one way to free me and save your daughter.”
“Tell me.” I loosen my grip on his tunic. “I’ll do anything.”
“Say my name.”
Our eyes lock, and I take an abrupt step back. I wrap my arms around myself, chilled.
“It’s the only way,” he says, his voice quiet.
“But you’ll die.”
He reaches out as if to stroke my face but pulls his hand back. “And you’ll be free.”
I turn toward my daughter, who’s still sleeping peacefully in her cradle, and pick her up, needing to know she’s safe. “I don’t know your name, and even if I did…” I shake my head. Then, scowling at him, I demand, “How could you ask that of me?”
“I can give you three days to guess my name, three guesses each day.” He crosses his arms. “We’ll start today.”
“You want names? Fine.” I glare at him. “Caspar?”
“No.”
“Melchior.”
“You’re not even trying.”
“Of course, I’m not trying!” I say the words so loudly, the baby stirs.
Rune crosses his arms. “One more.”
I shrug, more than finished with this morbid game. “Balthazar.”
“I’ll be back tomorrow.” And without so much as a goodbye, Rune is once again gone.
All night, I pace the library with my daughter tucked safely in my arms. I pour through books of records, looking for names, though I know I will never be able to name Rune. I can’t murder him.
But I can’t lose my child, either.
In the late morning hours, right after Conrad leaves for the day, Rune returns.
My heart hurts when I look at my friend, because that’s what he was. That’s what he is still.
“Shortribs?” I say.
He rolls his eyes. “That is not my name.”
“Sheepshanks?”
“Would you take this seriously, Greta?” he demands.
“There must be another way.”
Crossing his arms, he says, “There is no other way.”
“Laceleg?”
Rune sighs, looking as if the world is on his shoulders. “You have to guess correctly tomorrow. Do whatever you must—find my name.” He pauses for a moment, thinking, and then he turns to me, trying to tell me something with his eyes. Something he can’t say out loud. “You know where to look.”
The creek bubbles in the distance, and I make my way toward it, walking the familiar trail. It’s overgrown now that it’s no longer traveled. But even in the dark, I find my way.
It’s cold this year. Most of the leaves have already fallen from the trees, and the air is icy.
I don’t even know what I’m doing here, but it feels right. Conrad and the baby are fast asleep, tucked safely in the castle. My husband has no idea I’m gone, and as long as he doesn’t wake in the middle of the night, he’ll never know.
The moon glistens off the creek, and I sigh when I reach the bank. Rune’s not here. I’m not sure why I thought he would be.
An owl screeches from his perch not far away, and I jump. It’s eerie in the Black Forest at night, and I feel as if there are a thousand eyes on me. Wolves live in the next kingdom over. The packs don’t usually travel this far north, but that doesn’t mean they never do. And there were the trolls last year who stole the pigs. They come out at night.
This was foolish.
I’m just turning to leave when a scrap of beige catches my attention. It’s a piece of parchment, hanging from the tree Rune carved our names into when we were young, secured by a bit of leather with a small, familiar medallion hanging from it.
With a shaking hand, I pull it from the branch. Only one word graces the page: Rumpelstilzchen.
I sit next to the cradle, waiting for Rune. The smell of wood smoke filters in through the open window, coming from cottages burning fires in their hearths on this cold autumn day. It should be a comforting smell, as it always has been in the past.
My head throbs, and my stomach churns. I can’t do this. Part of me wishes I had told Conrad. Maybe the king would have thought of some way to save his daughter, some way that didn’t involve saying Rune’s name or declaring war on the reclusive Alfar.
No, if the king had known anyone or anything was threatening to take the princess away, he would have led the battle charge himself.
“Greta,” Rune says softly as he sets his hand on my shoulder.
I’m so deep in my thoughts, I didn’t hear him approach. Not that I ever have in the past.
“Please,” I say again, so tired. “Don’t make me do this.”
He pulls me to my feet. “You have no choice, Your Majesty.” He smiles when he says my title as if he’s actually happy I’ve found myself here. “I could never forgive myself for taking her.”
I lower my gaze and whisper, “I found your note.”
“Then say it.”
“I’m not ready.”
Rune clasps my hands and gazes down at the princess. “Do you love him, this king of yours?”
Unbidden, tears sting my eyes. I nod. “I’m so sorry.”
Rune looks back. “And he’s good to you?”
“Yes.” I wipe my eyes with the tips of my fingers, but it’s no use.
“Then be happy, and save me from this curse. Greta—say my name.”
I take a deep, ragged breath. I can do this. I have to do this. I can’t lose her. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” He looks as seren
e as I’ve ever seen him, but just as I’m opening my mouth, he stops me. “Wait, this is important. After I’m gone, once the council realizes what we’ve done, they might send someone else to steal the princess away.” His eyes lock on mine, his expression fierce. “Keep her here, in the castle, locked away and safe. Do you understand? Never, under any circumstance, allow her to set foot into the forest.”
I look at my daughter, and terror runs through me.
“Promise me,” Rune demands, and I nod. “As soon as she’s old enough to wear it, give her my medallion. It will keep her safe.”
As long as she never goes into the forest.
“I can’t do this without you,” I say, clutching his arm. “I just can’t.”
“Yes, you can.” He gives me a sad smile. “You are the most powerful woman in the kingdom. You can do anything.”
“Rune…”
“That’s not the right name.” Somehow he finds it in him to smirk, and then he whispers, “Try again.”
For several moments we look at each other, dozens of unspoken thoughts passing between us. After what seems like the longest time, Rune nods.
I take a deep, jagged breath. “Rumpelstilzchen.”
Rune grimaces as if he’s been stabbed, and my breath leaves me. Before my eyes, he begins to fade. “No…Rune, no…”
“I love you,” he says, grabbing my hand. “Always.”
“Please,” I beg, horrified at what I’ve done. “I’m sorry.”
I cling to him, clasping his palm, loathing myself.
Before he’s completely gone, he looks at the baby longingly, as if, perhaps, he wishes she were ours. “What did you name her?”
“Rapunzel,” I whisper.
He smiles and squeezes my hand for the last time. And then, like the wind, he’s gone.
In shock, I stare at the spot where he stood only moments before. I let out a keening wail, freeing the agony in my heart, and sink to my knees. In my distress, I wake the sleeping princess.
Her hiccups turn to wails. I hurry to my daughter’s side and stroke her downy hair. She’s the most precious thing in my life, and Rune told me to protect her.
I pull her into my arms and hold her close until she quiets. Softly, I whisper, “I swear to you, Rapunzel, I will guard you with my life. Even if it means you never leave the castle.”
<<<<>>>>
-
About the Author
Shari L. Tapscott writes young adult fantasy and humorous contemporary fiction. When she’s not writing or reading, she enjoys gardening, making soap, and pretending she can sing.
She loves white chocolate mochas, furry animals, spending time with her family, and characters who refuse to behave.
Tapscott lives in western Colorado with her husband, son, daughter, and two very spoiled Saint Bernards.
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Puss without Boots: A Puss in Boots Retelling
https://shariltapscott.com/
Rapunzel's Beauty
By Casey Lane
Chapter 1
Rapunzel watched the approaching hero with dread. If not for the light of the half-moon, the former royal with the cushion-soft skin would never have seen the man on horseback in the blackness of night. His steed was fast, causing a cloud of dust to kick up behind the armored warrior, though his beast wasn't the fastest Rapunzel had seen.
Too many heroes had traveled the path toward her singular tower. Some were fast, while others were cautious. There were large men and smaller ones. The heroes came from all kingdoms and a smattering of backgrounds. None of them had ever returned home.
Though she'd seen the scenario play out dozens of times, Rapunzel felt her heart pound against her chest like it was a maiden voyage.
Please turn back, she thought. Turn around and never come back.
The hero was getting close enough for her to make out his features in the moonlight. His armor glistened a golden hue. The open helmet betrayed a thick black beard. Her hand twitched as she recalled several suitors who'd sported similar facial hair. But that was a long time ago.
That was before the tower.
The moon and stars seemed to highlight the soldier as he brought his steed to a halt. As he gracefully leapt to the ground, Rapunzel could see just how massive the man was. As the rider stroked his horse, the prisoner in the tower wondered how the animal's legs didn't buckle under the muscular weight.
The man blinked and looked up to the open stone window where Rapunzel stood. "Fair princess, story of—"
"’Your beauty hardly does you justice.’ That’s what you were going to say, right? Did all of you train at the same stable or something?"
The hero smiled broadly. "Beauty and wit. I never expected to find such a perfect woman."
Rapunzel sighed. It started with the anticipation. Then came the flattery. She knew the next step wouldn't be pretty.
"Go home, hero." She absently ran a hand through her golden hair. "Your attempts to win my heart will only end in tragedy."
As she realized what she was doing, Rapunzel slowly pried her fingers away from the long strands of blond that trailed out the window and wrapped their way around the tower. Even though her hand remained clean, a part of her felt like it was covered in blood.
The soldier placed his hands on his hips like a proud bird displaying its wings. "Oh, beautiful star in the sky, I'm not just strong of body but of heart as well. I can handle the worst you'll throw at me." He made a motion toward the tower.
"Stop!" Rapunzel's pulse quickened. "Hero, you will die this night if you don't leave immediately."
The man's feet stayed firmly planted. "Is someone in there with you? Is someone keeping you there against your will?"
"If only it were that simple. All I can say is that if you're as strong in mind as you are of body and heart, you'll take your horse and go back where you came from."
The hero seemed to contemplate her words before he removed his helmet and reflected the moonlight with his smile.
He drew a sword from his scabbard. "I am most grateful, fair lady. Now I know why others have failed. You're being kept there by a trained assassin."
Rapunzel shivered. "I didn't say that."
The man in armor sheathed his sword and stepped forward, placing his hand on the stone tower. "I'll kill your captor before he can even blink. This is the last day he'll ever treat you this way."
As the hero climbed, Rapunzel felt her scalp tingle. Her head swayed as her golden locks tugged lightly at the roots. The seemingly limp hair was beginning to come to life.
Rapunzel laced her fingers together. "Please, I beg of you." Tears pooled in her eyes as her voice turned soft. "It's not my fault. It's not my fault."
Through her watery vision, the prisoner could see the hero using the gaps between the stones as handholds.
He climbed up the wall with ease, reaching the halfway point in a matter of seconds. "Don't worry, Princess! I'll be there in just a moment."
"It's not my—"
Rapunzel felt her hair rip itself from the tower wall beside the hero. As he turned toward the motion, the blond strands sharpened themselves into a point and wrenched his wrist from the stone.
He gasped. "What witchcraft is this?"
The hair responded by tightening its grasp on his hand so hard that Rapunzel could feel the bones breaking beneath his armor. His screams echoed through the night.
Before he could draw his sword, the hair wrapped around the hilt and tossed it away. The weapon stuck blade-first into the ground far below.
Rapunzel wanted to cover her eyes. She wanted to pull all the similar memories out of her head and forget they ever happened. Instead, she watched her curse take shape once again.
Another thick strand of hair wrapped itself around the hero's neck.
He tried to pull it off with his healthy hand, but Rapunzel's cursed blond tendrils were far too strong for even this massive male specimen.
The hero looked up and caught he
r eye. "I have failed you."
Rapunzel punched her hand into the stone. Pain shot through her knuckles as the blood trickled down her fingers.
She turned away, but nothing could soften her senses when her hair snapped the hero's neck.
Chapter 2
Colt looked on as his master spread his own legend. He continued to sip at his warm ale, even though Fenryk had gulped down five drinks in the same time. As long as the knight continued weaving his tales, the musty tavern kept the drinks coming.
"Colt and I had one measly torch between us as we descended into the ancient, decomposing crypt." Fenryk shifted his eyes between the dozen or so enraptured drinkers around him. "As soon as the light began to go out, we heard a scratching sound. It got closer. And closer. Until the light finally… went out."
One of the tavern's patrons leaned so far forward, he nearly fell out of his seat.
Colt made eye contact with his tall, muscular master for but a moment. Fenryk gave a quick wink. Both of them knew they stormed the crypt in the middle of the afternoon when a lack of light was hardly among their chief concerns.
"As the scratching sound grew louder, Colt and I both drew our swords. That's when we heard the creature utter those fateful words." Fenryk prepared for his impression of the foul beast by hunching over and making his voice as raspy as possible. "'Leave this place, or we'll feast on your souls for all of eternity!'"
The barkeep and several patrons shuddered as they imagined themselves in Fenryk's shoes. Truth be told, while there was a creature in the crypt with them, its voice was so garbled, neither Colt nor his knight could understand it. The "fateful words" were an invention that came around the 3rd or 4th version of the tale.
Fenryk took another swig of ale and placed the empty stein on the bar. He paused until one of the patrons slammed down his fist on the worn, wooden countertop.
"Don't just stand there, Meryl! Get the hero some bloody ale so he can finish the story!"
