Margo Rapunzel

Once upon a time, there was a king and queen who longed for a child of their own, though none ever came.
Beyond their castle, outside the city, lay a beautiful, lush green garden, the likes of which no other garden paralleled. Unfortunately, this garden was surrounded by a high stone fence, and owned by an evil enchantress.
One day, on a walk with a few of her friends, the queen passed by the blossoming garden, and saw a beautiful flower, one that was so rare, no one knew where to find it, except in the garden. And the lady, spoiled by her husband as she was, yearned for it. So that very day after her walk, she went to her husband and begged him to enter the garden and bring her a bouquet of the rare flowers.
The king loved her so, and agreed. At dusk, he climbed over the wall into the garden of the enchantress, quickly grabbing a fistful of the flowers and taking it to his wife.
She at once set the bunch in a vase, leaving it on a table in the central hall, so everyone entering or exiting could see it. But by the afternoon of the next day, the bouquet had wilted, and the woman grew pale seeing it limp as it was on the table. So once again, she went to her husband and begged him to go out and pick her a new bunch.
Of course, the man agreed once more, blinded of the foolishness by his love for his wife. So again, at dusk, he clambered over the wall. But then he froze with fear, for there stood the angry enchantress, watching him make his way into the garden.
“How dare you,” she screeched, “climb over my walls and steal from my beautiful garden! You shall suffer much for it.”
“Oh, but my lady!” he exclaimed. “I only wanted but to please my wife, who has begged me to gather some of these rare flowers for her. Have mercy, please, for her sake!”
The enchantress softened her gaze upon him, stating, “In that case, you may leave here with as much of that wild flower, and any of the others, as you wish, only if you give me your word, as king, to give me the child that now lies in your wife’s stomach. Do not fear, I will treat her well, like a daughter. In his terror, the man consented to it.
When the day came that the baby was born, the enchantress came as well, sweeping the young girl away after naming her Rapunzel. And the princess grew older, beautiful and good, with a voice purer than any crystal, and brighter than any star...

At least, so has the story of my life been told to me by Dame Elasha, the enchantress. Sighing, I turned in my seat by the lone window to look out at the dawn. I’m fifteen now, with thick, golden hair, much longer than any you’ve ever seen, I can assure you. Well, it was longer than any you’ve ever seen. But, of course, like so much in my life, the prince who’s supposed to come and rescue me before the evil woman can cut my hair, was late. As in, not there. As in, too late. My hair is gone. Mostly. I still have a short clump that goes to my waist.
So not how it was supposed to be. In all the other fairy tales, everything works out perfect, doesn’t it? But not in mine, oh no! Of course not! But, that just shows how much you can count on boys anyway. And their names! I mean, honestly, Prince Charming? Surely a girl with a name as elegant as Cinderella can find a guy with a better name than that.
Sorry. Now you see how my life is. Complaining to myself about the names of princes in fairy tales. I sighed again, then set about cleaning my small tower room up; making the bed, hanging my gowns in the wardrobe the enchantress granted me, hanging my many (now useless) brushes on their hooks in the wall, and such. And as I worked, I sang.
Not to brag or anything, but my voice really is gorgeous. I mean, fifteen years in a tower by myself, with only an old lady every couple of days for company, and I’ve had plenty of time to perfect my vocals.
Then, in the midst of a chorus of “A Dream is A Wish”, a young male voice called out, “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!”
“Oh, stuff it, Prince, darling!” I yelled, not bothering to even go to the window.
There was a slight pause, then, “That’s not what you’re supposed to say.”
I rushed to the ledge and snapped down, “And you’re not supposed to be late, either!” I pushed the remaining bunch of hair on my head outside the window. “I would let down my hair, but because someone was late, Elasha was able to cut it!” I fumed down at him, unfortunately realizing while I was at it that he was very handsome. No, not a good word. He was hot! But I continued glaring down at him, arms crossed angrily in front of my chest.
“Hmm,” he allowed. “Bit of a problem there. Good thing I brought a rope.”
My jaw dropped. I just couldn’t help it. A rope? He’d brought a rope? Not so empty-headed as all the stories say, then, is he? A murmured, “Oh.” was all I managed.
“Stand back, princess,” he warned me. I did as he said, and a few seconds later, the end of the rope landed with a thud on the floor. Grabbing it before its weight could drag it back out the window, I tied the rope to one of my bedposts. Then, tossing my legs out over the ledge, I quickly lowered myself down to the ground. The prince threw the remaining rope into the window and out of sight. He then turned to me, drawing in breath to say something.
I held up a hand to stop him. “Hold it, Prince. No, I’m not marrying you.”
He grinned un-selfconciously. “That’s okay, my beautiful lady. I’ll wait.” Holding out a hand, he introduced himself. “Prince Sloane of Bronte, Princess Rapunzel.”
Shaking his hand, I made a face. “Rapunzel is my middle name, Prince Sloane. I prefer my first, Margo.” Suddenly and without warning, the prince tackled me, throwing both of us into the bushes. I struggled and tried to scream, but as he had one arm circling my waist, and his other hand covering my mouth, it was to no avail.
“Princess Margo, quit struggling unless you want us both to be discovered!” He whispered harshly into my ear. Puzzled, I obeyed, and that was when I heard it; the sound of Dame Elasha whistling as she made her way up the path towards my tower.
Then the whistling stopped, and she ordered loudly, “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your-“ She stopped with a chuckle. “Whoops, I forgot.” There was a rustling of leaves, and then the creak of wood bending under a heavy weight. Soon after this, there was scream. “RAPUNZEL!” The arm around my waist tightened.
“Don’t worry, Margo, I won’t let her harm you.” And he let go of me, stepping out of the bushes and drawing his sword. “Here am I, enchantress, and here is she whom you shriek so loudly for.” He announced, indicating me where I still was, very UN-elegantly, seated on the ground in a pile of leaves. She glared down at him like a hawk would stare down its prey. “I, the prince Sloane, claim Princess Margo as mine, which means you,” he smirked, “cannot have her.”
Elasha stared down at him, fury pouring almost visibly from every vein in her body. “Very clever, darling prince. You may have her for now, but I’ll soon find my way around those old laws and claim her once again!” She turned her back. “At the count of twenty, if I still can see you, I shall lose my temper. Trust me, you don’t want that to happen.”