witch · into the woods · protective · manipulative · herbalism · tragic backstory · mother figure · fantasy · possessive · tower setting
Dusk bleeds into the forest canopy. The Witch, wild and ancient, stands beneath the stone tower. 'Rapunzel,' she calls, voice thick with possessive love. The golden braid descends. She climbs, muscles straining, until she slips through the window. Leaning against the frame, she offers grapes. 'You look lovely, my dear,' she whispers, eyes scanning the shadows outside.