15 Rapunzel
A burning pain wakes me up. I don’t remember falling asleep, but the sizzling sound of something burning makes me gasp, and a moment later the pain registers.
It’s in my neck. At my throat and down my collarbone to my chest. I scream, the pain intensifying as I sit here.
Pain is foreign to me. Midas and Dorah struck me occasionally, but they would never torture me. Even when Midas would use my hair to bind me, the pain was brutal but short lived, and he would ensure that the marks and suffering were short lived. He wanted me disciplined, not fearful, so I would keep using my gift for him. But I saw the bodies of those poor souls after he was finished abusing them, and I got to see what real torture is.
This feels like that.
“Ah, pretty girl is awake,” the voice says, and I whimper as I turn. My hair is a knotted mess around me, and my scalp aches in pain as I turn. The being sitting beside me makes me start screaming again.
The man who fed me a cookie and brought me to the gingerbread house looked normal, if a little strange. Whatever is sitting next to me is nothing like a man.
The head is a flower, literally. Petals blossom around his head, and the center seems to be his smushed face. He’s light blue and inhuman, his eyes blinking vertical instead of horizontal as he stares at me.
I scream, struggling against the chair I’m sitting on. It’s hard wood, and there’s something sticky and stretchy around my wrists. I pull hard, but the restraint doesn’t give.
With my mouth open to scream, the creature has the perfect opportunity to shove something between my lips. I gag on the thick substance, the taste burning my tongue and making my eyes water.
“Shh! I told you to keep the girl still!”
“I gave her some more of the taffy. Sorry, Madame.”
I try to spit out whatever he shoved into my mouth, but it won’t move. It’s sticking to the roof of my mouth and my tongue, clinging to every single tooth. I can’t breathe around the substance. This is like no taffy I’ve had before.
I cry out, my voice muffled, and snap my head back and forth. It makes the pain in my neck intensify, and briefly my vision fogs.
No. If I pass out in this place, I’m as good as dead.
“Keep going,” the other voice croaks, and a strong hand grabs my face. “We need all the juicy bits. Take the pretty pieces, bake them up, oh so sweet!”
Wherever I am, I’m trapped in madness. When the flower-headed man twists my face back again, he flashes me a set of inhumanly sharp teeth. I vaguely remember that from when I first came into the house.
“You’ll be tasty. Tasty and sweet,” he says, keeping his grip on my face. I try to struggle, but the longer I’m awake the more aware I am of how painfully hot it is here. I’m covered in sticky sweat.
His hand trails up, pressing against my eye. I wince and close it, but he keeps pressure there. “So pretty. Blue eyes, blue eyes! The nicest prize.”
These people are absolutely mad… or whatever a flower-headed thing is considered.
“The hair,” the other voice snaps, and I gasp when the pressure on my eye releases. It stings, but it’s nothing compared to the pain in my neck and chest. It feels like someone flayed me open and stuck a blade into the wounds for good measure. “Get more locks of hair. So pretty, so gold.”
I twitch when he presses a hand to my temple, shoving my head to one side. I cry out as the burning pain intensifies when I stretch my neck, and I try to kick my legs. That’s when I realize they are tied together to the chair.
He places a hand on my shoulder, and I can’t stop from sobbing.
“Cut out the tongue too when you’re finished. She makes so much noise.”
Flower Head grabs my face and turns it, making me scream when it feels like my skin is tearing apart. He pushes too far, straining my throat, and for a moment I wonder if he's going to snap my neck.
Twisted at this new angle, I can see the other one. The Madame if I’m hearing straight. She’s somehow worse than the thing twisting me around.
Her head is a sunflower, which is even more off-putting than the blue. She’s robustly heavy, with a figure that’s almost so wide she has to be fake. Like a three layer cake, her bottom half is very rounded, her middle slimmed, and her head is sucked into nothing, the petals of the sunflower encircling her face.
She spots me looking and grins, flashing the same set of teeth as the blue guy. “You bought his lie, sweet girl? Hansel is dead.”
There isn’t time to make sense of her words. There’s a sudden stabbing pain in my shoulder, and I scream out and struggle in the chair, my eyes watering as the pain races through me. My legs shudder, but the flower's grip on me doesn’t allow me to twist out of it.
The heat in here makes every touch feel worse, and when he moves his hand from my shoulder to my leg I can barely focus on it.
After what feels like forever, the burning pain draws back. I sob, his body moving from mine, and I can’t even describe what he was doing to me.
“Not the ears,” the blue guy grumbles. “Bad listening.”
I feel the tears building in my eyes, but as they race down my cheeks they evaporate. It’s so hot in here there’s nowhere for the tears to go.
“We don’t want the ears. We’ll cut off the lips and hair after the eyes. I want these eyes.”
Quiet cries slip from my lips, still stuck together by the gooey substance. At this point I'd rather stay asleep than hear all this.
They want my lips and hair and eyes. So what happens to the rest of me?
A hand slams down on my shoulder, the one he was just cutting into, and a cry escapes again. “Does Madame want the eyes now?”
“Finish prepping her and I'll take them after. You can have the body when I'm finished.”
Have the body.
Panic races through me. I don’t know if Zarev’s noticed I’m gone, or how long it’s going to take to find me. If I don’t help myself I’m as good as dead.
Looking to the one side, all I can see are jars and a big stack of laundry. None of that is going to help me, and no matter how I struggle against the restraints the gooey substance won’t give. My mouth is still sealed, and if I panic too much I’m going to pass out.
I can’t come all this way to die in some gingerbread house in the woods. It was foolish to walk down here, but until he changed, the man - flower, thing - looked normal.
Frustration rocks through me. I finally get to come down from the tower, and I’m going to die in a shack.
When the blue guy moves to touch me again, I scream behind the sludge in my mouth. My head warms a little, my desperation bleeding through to the magic in my hair. I don’t know what good that will do -
Blue guy hisses, and my head jerks up. “Too hot in here, madame.”
The other one scoffs, but I can’t see her. “Into the oven soon. A nice pie this girl will make. All of her pretty bits to finally bake.”
I gasp, the warmth in my head barely offering comfort against what’s around me. I force my head around, my shoulder screaming in protest. Dizziness swings through my mind again, and I’m definitely hurt. Possibly too hurt to run even if I can escape.
There’s a window past the blue guy’s head. A peek at daylight before they try to toss me in the oven.
And through it, shadows appear. Zarev’s face fills the windowsill, his orange-red eyes full of murder even from here.
I blink as the flower man leans into my vision again. If Zarev is still injured, he can’t fight as well as he normally could. I saw the battle with Midas, but this – this is something wholly new.
My head warms again. If I can push any magic out, it might be able to help. Healing would be great, but right now if I tried to help myself I’d just be giving them more reasons to cut me again.
But, I can melt. And this place is already warm…
My head bobs, and I realize I’m close to passing out from the heat. Or the pain. Or both. Still, I force my hands to fists, trying to focus my magic into my hands and hair and hopefully push outward.
When the blue guy leans in again, I scream behind the sludge and let my magic pulse out from me.
There’s a roar, or maybe a ringing in my ears. It’s hard to tell, but the bindings around my hands turn spongey, and I’m able to jerk my wrists free.
I collapse forward, my bound feet nearly making me slam my face into the floor. My knees scream in protest, and I blink down at the floor several times before I can focus on the boards.
Reaching up, I tear at the sludge in my mouth. It’s malleable when warm, and I pull out chunks of putty with my fingers, gasping for air now that my mouth is no longer forced open.
The ringing subsides in my head, morphing to screams.
I snap my head around, looking for the blue flower. He’s not in the same spot, but the wailing noise I hear in the distance sounds like a female voice.
I blink again, reaching back to grasp the cord wrapped around my legs. I pull weakly but it must be the heat because it gives with a few pulls, and I fall against the floor.
Everything screams. It hurts to breathe and the skin all along my shoulders and collarbone wail in pain. I force myself to roll to one side near the table, knowing I can only give myself a moment to breathe.
That’s when I see Zarev, dark shadows flying all around him as he paces towards the sunflower-headed madame.
“Reaper,” she growls.
“I knew I sensed a weed,” he replies, his eyes seeming to glow. “How did a Flowerborne end up so far from Wonderland?”
The creature hisses, those jagged teeth flashing in the lights. “You are not welcome here!”
“Sorry to spoil the fun,” Zarev goes on, his eyes dancing all around. When they land on me, I swear he sneers around the shadows. They almost encompass him, but there’s still not enough blocking my view to miss the way his teeth seem to lengthen.
“Rapunzel! Go!”
Madame snarls, her sunflower head seeming to puff up bigger and bigger. Her face turns a bright yellow as she grows. “This is my meal! Begone!”
Zarev chuckles, before nodding his head at me before leaping at the beast. I watch as the shadows form in his hands while the flower's mouth opens wide to expose her teeth. She throws out inhuman hands as she meets his lunge.
He slams the shadows into her, but she leans into the force and tries to swipe at his feet. Before she can even connect with him, everything from his hips down fades to shadow, and her arms flail uselessly through him.
I almost smile at that. She can’t fight a shadow.
Hands lock around my ankles, and I scream as I’m dragged backward. “Pretty girl.”
The blue flower flips me over as he pulls, making me scream in pain. I hold up my arms, ready to block his attacks if I can.
The flower growls, a very unusual thing to hear from a face framed by petals. “If Madame is too busy to cook you just right, I’ll do the honors.”
He starts pulling me across the room, and my hands fly out to try and grasp a hold of anything. The floor is too warm against my back and the layers of what’s left of my skirt slide high on my thighs as he continues to pull my kicking legs.
My hair tangles around my hands as I fight, unable to call forth more magic like a moment before. I did some damage to him, some of the petals around his face wilting or completely missing. No burns, not like the pains that I feel, but there’s rage on his strange face.
Debris and random objects pull on my hair as we go but it’s stronger than regular hair, so it’s not ripping out of my scalp. As I kick and twist in his grip, my hands lasso the hair in my arms as best I can to keep it from pulling. The hot ground scrapes my back, and whatever I did a moment ago I don’t think I have the energy to repeat.
“Into the oven with you,” he says, hooking his hands around my knees. I try to catch his face with my heels, but he’s persistent in avoiding my kicks. Glancing over to my side there’s something gigantic sitting there -
It’s a massive baking pan and I squeal when he lifts me from the floor, his strange height making him impossibly tall. Upside down I feel immediately nauseous, but I can see into the tub where there’s bits of my hair and what looks like separated skin sitting in a ring all along the edge.
I twist and throw my hands in his direction, begging my magic to come back but it isn’t listening. Desperately I throw my hair at him, unsure I have the energy to do much but needing to try. It tangles all around his head and neck, the folded lengths twisting and knotting around him like a noose made of hair.
Desperately, I grab as much of my hair as I can between my fists and, deciding it’s a better fate than getting tossed in a baking dish, throw myself forward with all my might.
It knocks him off balance, and we go down against the sweltering floor one more. I gasp as my hair pulls and he takes a strangled breath behind me.
I don’t think about what I’m doing because it’ll make me reconsider my madness. Rolling to the side I force myself to my feet, the adrenaline pushing through the pain. Once standing, I pull hard at everything trapped around his neck.
The petals get in the way of him pulling at my hair, which gives me the opportunity I need. When he leans closer to try and wrestle me into the dish, I go for it. Throwing the rest of my hair as best as I can, tangles wrap all around his flowery face and neck, making the petals droop.
He gasps, digging his hands into my hair. My scalp screams in protest, and those traitorous tears well up again.
I scream when he pulls hard, and the magic spirals out once more. I feel it in the heat of my head, see it in the golden shine of my locks, and when I desperately pull again there’s a sickening crack.
Grasping, I drop the tension when he slumps forward. There’s an explosion to the right, and in a daze I glance that way and away from the body.
I almost forgot Zarev was here.
His eyes flicker to me, looking me over, and his hand is pressed to the sunflower face of the other creature. A hard edge enters his gaze before he looks back at the monster. “Nothing else to say?”
“My Queen is my lifeline. I will not betray her highness for scum.”
“So be it,” he snaps, and I watch the shadows slide from his palm, pressed to her face, and over the monster. She cries out, the only voice in this now quiet house, and when the body starts to tremble her neck slumps forward.
Without a head.
Zarev’s still holding the sunflower face, and it crumbles in his grasp as the monster falls to the ground, her unnatural limbs during green for a moment before fading to brown.
Like a dying plant.
He drops what’s left of the face, nothing more than powder, and paces over to me. His eyes are wild as he looks at me, an unhinged shine in them as he walks over with hurried steps.
I glance down at the mess on the floor. The monster is still tangled in my hair, and there’s coppery spots forming along my locks. My legs shake, like they’ve been doing since I realized I ran straight into danger, and then Zarev’s warm palms slide over my cheeks.
Hissing at the touch, he gentles his hand on the side that burns. “I knew you could do it.”
“What?” I ask, my vision growing spotty. The last of my energy is sapped and I can’t imagine doing anything else.
“Kill the monster,” he says simply, studying my face. “They did a number on you.”
“I - I’m sorry-”
“Don’t apologize, Princess. You fight decent for someone who grew up in a tower.”
I barely nod, sagging forward against his hands. He adjusts his hold, and for the first time, I realize his skin is slicked in sweat. The house is still too warm.
He tugs at my hair, and I cry out in pain. “Rapunzel, I need to cut it.”
“My hair?”
“It’s too tangled and we’re too hot. The house is too hot. Their oven is something straight out of the underworld. We have to go. I can’t untangle all of it right now.”
“Try,” I whisper, and Zarev sighs. It’s a petty thing, like carrying my corset and shoes, but I’m shedding all the parts of myself that make me who I am.
If I’m not the girl with the long, golden hair, who am I?
“Wrap your arms around me,” he says, and I follow his lead. He could drop me on the floor right now and I wouldn’t fight. His body is warm but damp in spots, and I think he’s bleeding too. “You need all your strength now, Princess. I can’t heal you.”
I grunt, sinking against him. He coaxes my legs up and then around his waist, and I’m too tired to be embarrassed.
His fingers press into my hair, and he tugs and pulls for several moments. “That’s the best I can manage. We’ll get you a proper haircut when we reach the tavern.”
My fingers brush against the handle of his scythe at his back, and it’s then that I realize he’s not holding the blade. A few fast tugs later I feel a great loss of weight, and something cool presses to the side of my thigh.
Looking down, it’s the smaller blade Zarev carries. I don’t have to look behind me to know what he cut off.
“Hold tight. I’ll get us out of here.”
I don’t say anything, my eyes closing against him. If I could just sleep for a moment…
“Well, you’ve made a mess of things I see.”
I’m too tired to worry about who that voice belongs to. It can’t be as dangerous as these plant people, not when I’m wrapped in Zarev’s arms. Satisfied that death is no longer around the corner, I let myself succumb to sleep.