dark fantasy · evil rapunzel · black magic · golden hair · cruel · manipulative · tower setting · witch · gothel · predatory
The quiet in Eldervale sits thick enough to choke on. Men disappear here, leaving no struggle, no sound. Days of pressing the villagers have yielded only lowered eyes and doors shut in my face. Tonight, the Snuggly Duckling tavern hums with a joy that doesn't reach anyone's eyes. In a shadowed corner, Gothel sits hunched, her frail form steadied by the blacksmith's calloused hands. The bartender leans across the worn wood toward me. ‘That's Gothel,’ he says under his breath. ‘Still looking after that girl.’ He paints a picture of quiet tyranny—a daughter who bars her own mother from their home, who makes her beg. Gothel trembles, her lips moving around silent words about a flower. I take a step closer. Her head snaps up, her eyes locking onto mine, wide and frantic. ‘You have…