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Rapunzel's Gift

By: Akito01



The prologue of this tale is both short and fragmented, like the recollections of a terrible dream. A bargain made under cover of night, a peasant couple exchange their first-born daughter for their very survival. In those grim times, such a trade is not completely unheard of. But, the creature who had caught the husband thieving in her garden was no ordinary landowner. She held the pair in thrall, and with insidious whispers, convinced them that their baby would be cared for as well as any child that ever lived.

The witch named the girl Rapunzel, after the rampion stolen by her now forgotten parents. As promised, she was raised well, and grew to become an energetic young girl. As if in direct contrast to the squat, shadowy aspect of her Mother Gothel, Rapunzel was tall, fair of skin and spirit. She was dressed in gowns of vibrant blue and gold, many of which she’d learned to sew herself. She often played on her own in the gardens and trees that surrounded the house of the great witch. A tall wall of stone, which defined the limits of her personal universe, sealed off the grounds. Unseen and unknown to the outside world, all of Rapunzel’s learning and knowledge came from the bitter lips of Mother Gothel.

As Rapunzel continued to grow, so did her hair. Golden blonde, its texture was as fine as silk. By age six it draped down to her feet. By twelve, it was so long it had to be woven into a single complex braid so as to be in any way manageable. Wrapped around her neck and shoulders, one might have mistaken it for a scarf of exceptional quality and beauty.

Rapunzel’s twelfth year of life brought other changes as well, one’s that would alter things forever. It began with the gradual, subtle growth of her chest. Thin, curly strands of hair appeared on her pubis. All of these things passed without incident or comment, but the smear of red that marked her thighs send Mother Gothel into hysterics.

“Do you know what this is,” the witch hissed, rubbing the bright blood between her claw-like fingertips.

Rapunzel shook her head; afraid she’d done something terrible.

“It is your menses,” she said. “Your first, so it seems. Very powerful magic, this is, both unclean and pure.”

Rapunzel still didn’t understand.

“You are becoming adult,” Gothel told her. “Soon, you will yearn for the company of men, who will in turn covet both your beauty and your womb. This cannot be allowed to happen.”

But, even she couldn’t halt the course of nature. The only thing to do was to put Rapunzel away; somewhere she could never be touched.

Mother Gothel made her adopted daughter gather all the clothing she could, then led her off into the dark woods not far from their home. Here, the forest ground was littered with the disordered and moss grown stones of a long fallen castle. The witch set Rapunzel within a circle of these stones, and with a spell, made the girl fall into a deep sleep.

Rapunzel awoke with the morning sun beaming down onto her face. Turning over, she found that the sunlight was actually streaming forth from a narrow window. Rising up in a near panic, she came to realize that that window was the only opening within the large circular chamber she now found herself.

“So, you are awake.”

Mother Gothel sat cross-legged on a straw mattress set against the curving wall. It was one of the few bits of furniture in the otherwise barren stone room.

“Where am I,” Rapunzel asked, continuing to take in her surroundings. The place was unlike anything she was familiar with from their house.

“This is your new home,” the witch told her. “It is a tower, twenty ells high, without stairs or doors. There is no hope of either escape or entrance”

Rapunzel stared at Mother Gothel in horror.

“But, why?!”

“To keep you pure and untouched. Here you will remain until your monthly flows finally end. Both virgin and finally barren, you will be ready to become what I am.”

The full meaning of those words was lost on Rapunzel. She couldn’t know that the witch intended to sequester her until the time of her menopause, some thirty or forty years from now. She was ignorant to the secret of Mother Gothel’s longevity; the exchange of flesh for flesh that would ultimately negate her existence in favor of the witch.

All Rapunzel knew was that she was to remain here, an irrevocable prisoner. Every few days Mother Gothel would visit, bringing food, water and other supplies. With the absence of any entrance from the ground, the witch concocted a strange and terrible method to ascend the tower. As arranged, Mother Gothel would shout out, “Rapunzel, Rapunzel; let down your golden hair!”

On this call, the girl would unwind her plaits, then twist them around an iron hook set close to the window. Throwing out the remarkable length of her thick braid, the witch would climb as if it were common rope.

If the conditions of Rapunzel’s imprisonment seemed cruel, at least she was capable of finding some moments of happiness. Eventually provided with a spinning wheel and a small loom, she could create new clothes for herself to suit her growing and changing figure. She would also invent tapestries, in order to cover the gray and disheartening stonewalls that surrounded her on all sides. Sadly, this situation didn’t last long, was they both realized how those fabrics could be made into a form of escape. Gothel snatched them all up, offering nothing in return to make up for the loss.

Rapunzel also learned to sing; inspired by the birds she spied through her solitary window. In time, her voice became refined and equally melodic. Unheard, her songs were so full of longing and hope; they could have evoked tears.

She also took meticulous care of her body. This was an age when soap was thought to be mildly poisonous, and hygiene of any kind was largely the purview of the aristocracy. Rapunzel, however, was immaculate. Every morning was consumed with the ritual of bathing, using a copper basin and the fresh water Mother Gothel would bring. Every part of her pale, lean body received attention, but none more so than her hair. Soaked in soap and water, she would scrub the entire length clean. This often required unbraiding and brushing it out before reassembling it into it’s original long plait. When it was still damp and loose, she would fan out around her like a vast golden fleece, or the expanding wings of an angel. Still, much clung to her body in thick, difficult to manage tendrils.

If Mother Gothel imagined that Rapunzel’s isolation would keep her from the temptation of carnal desire, she wasn’t entirely correct. With so little to occupy her time and attention, Rapunzel could only find comfort and amusement in her own flesh. She didn’t know whether what she did was right or wrong, but her instincts told her to keep this a secret from Mother Gothel, just as she wished she’d hidden that smear of blood on her thigh so long ago. So, under the blanket of evening darkness, Rapunzel would lie naked on her rough cot, and sooth and explore her body with her fingertips. She delighted in the sensations she could evoke, sometimes even using her own hair instead of her hands when she was feeling very needful indeed. It all felt strange and wonderful; the rubbing between the thighs, the warmth and the wet.

Six years after Rapunzel was first imprisoned in the tower, events conspired to change things once again. The agent of that change arrived in the form of a young man riding a black stallion. This was no ordinary traveler, however. The youth with wild dark hair was none other than Stefan, third prince to the royal throne.

Despite possessing all the comforts and security that only an aristocratic heritage could bring, Stefan’s heart was restless. So, he had taken to crossing the land on horse, exploring the obscure corners of his modest kingdom.

Stefan’s adventures were not of a grand scale, these being quiet and untroubled times. Certainly there were injustices to be found and corrected, but most were of a kind beyond the ability of any one man to repair. His wanderings had made him more aware of the plight of the commoners than his siblings, but it was a futile knowledge. And so, he would return to the castle at the end of each day, his heart a little more heavy than before.

Then, as he was riding in the dark woods of the borderlands, he caught glimpse of a tower through the trees. Intrigued, he urged his steed forward, curious to have found such a structure in this place. As he neared the spot, he detected the melodic strains of a woman’s voice raised in song.

He found Rapunzel’s tower in a small clearing, surrounded on all sides by the wood. There were no other buildings or settlements such as one might expect to find. The growth of briars and moss on the tower’s surface suggested great age and neglect. If it weren’t for that voice, he would have believed it to be an abandoned ruin. And that was what truly grabbed his attention; that voice, that song.

He circled around the girth of the tower, but could find no entrance. Head craned upward, he could make out the opening of a window near the top; unmistakably the source of the heartfelt singing. As much as he tried, he couldn’t see anything through that aperture at this steep angle, leaving him helpless to guess the identity of the unseen singer.

In the end, he returned to the castle, unable to join the woman who was so inexplicably unreachable in that tower. But, what he’d heard had touched his heart so deeply he returned the very next day, and every day after, to hear it again.

Once, when he was hidden behind the bulk of a tree, he saw a strange figure approach the tower. It was wrapped in thick robes and carrying a heavy burden on it’s back, so he could make out very little detail. The way it walked, however, was strange in a way it was hard to define. It was as if the legs hidden beneath the gown were not entirely human. When it came to the foot of the tower, it cried out; ‘Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your golden hair!’

Much to Stefan’s amazement, an extremely long plait of blonde hair came tumbling from the open window. The witch took hold of the woven strands and swiftly climbed to the top, betraying a strength and dexterity that again beggared human skill.

“If that is the ladder by which one ascends,” he thought, “I will try my luck myself.”

The next day, as it began to grow dark, he returned to the tower. Dismounting his ride, he approached the silent tower. As he’d witnessed, he cried out; ‘Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your golden hair!’

Within very short order, the hair came streaming down towards him. Holding it in his sweaty nervous hands, there was no doubt that this was indeed living hair. It was smooth and soft to the touch, and possessed a mild pleasant fragrance. The king’s son now gripped it tightly, and ascended the height of the tower.

Cresting the sill, his first sight was of the young woman standing by the window, a small knot of her long hair wrapped around an iron hook. Her wide blue eyes opened in shock and horror at his approach. She quickly unfixed her braid from the hook and ran to the opposite side of the chamber, long hair pulled up after her.

Stefan remained frozen as he was, perched on the sill, staring in wonder at this beauty. She was tall, thin and pale. Her complexion was not unlike some of the ladies of the court, except that no powder was required to make her skin so white; only the isolation from the sun she’d experienced for so many years. She was clad in a long blue dress, the fabric of which was ill fitting and worn. Perhaps it had been years since she owned any new clothing. Her feet were bare, and she possessed no jewelry or decoration of any kind. Clearly her most remarkable feature was her preternaturally long hair, which surely must be beyond normal human powers to have grown to such an extent. The young woman clutched the length to her, as if the golden strands could offer some protection from the intruder.

For Rapunzel, her heart raced in panic and fear at the sight of this man. Indeed, she had never seen the opposite gender of her race in her entire life. His eyes were livid hazel, and he had short hairs growing around his chin in a way she’d never imagine was possible. He was broad and powerful, like a beast of the forest. But his open face was empty of malice. As the two watched each other, Rapunzel’s panic receded, though her fear remained.

“Please, don’t be afraid,” he said at last, stepping lightly now inside from the sill. “I’m not here to hurt you. In fact, I am the kings son, if that fact has meaning for you.”

It didn’t, but the soft tone of his voice put her on ease.

“I apologize if I’ve done anything wrong by coming here,” he continued. “It’s just that, I heard your song, and it touched me so deeply that I had no peace. I had no choice but to come see you.”

Rapunzel nearly broke into tears on the spot. Hearing those words, knowing that her voice had finally reached another soul -it was as if a dam had burst loose inside her. Long suppressed and forgotten emotions all rushed in on her at once. Stefan thought he might have erred by speaking those words, until he saw her smile.

Stefan knelt down before her, taking her hand in his as she looked down at him in joy and wonder. It was some moments before either spoke again.

“I... My name is Stefan,” he finally said, feeling the shivering of her hand finally abate. “What do they call you?”

“I am Rapunzel,” she replied.

“I’m glad to have found you,” he said, smiling. “It is a remarkable thing to have happened. Would this strange place be your home or your prison?”

“I... I suppose it is both,” she told him uncertainly.

She drew back her hand from his, laying her palm now against his face, feeling’s it unfamiliar contours. There was so much beauty and kindness in that face, it was hard to believe this was truly a ‘man’, such as Mother Gothel described in harsh whispers.

Stefan let her touch his skin, enjoying the warmth of her slender fingertips.

“How long have you been here,” he asked, suspecting it must be a very long time indeed.

“I don’t know,” she shook her head. “Years. I’ve grown much since Mother Gothel first brought me to this place.”

Stefan nodded, a growing sense of horror creeping in at the thought of what this gentle woman had endured.

There was such a strong air of desperation and need in Rapunzel that he wanted to draw her into a long embrace. Something in Stefan’s expression must have betrayed his thoughts, because Rapunzel dropped to her knees and joined him on the floor. She wrapped her slender arms around his neck, and he in turn hugged her close, cradling the back of her head with one hand through thick golden hair. As if making up for all the years of isolation and neglect, she held him so tight as to nearly take his breath away.

“I have to ask,” he said, when they had separated themselves enough to look into each other’s eyes, “and I pray you do not feel me foolish for asking; Rapunzel, will you have me for your husband?”

Rapunzel had no knowledge of the term, but seeing how young and handsome this man was, it was clear to her that he would lover her better than old Mother Gothel. As far as she could tell, he was asking if he could be hers. It almost made her laugh. If anything, she felt as if she should be asking if she could be his.

“Yes,” she said, clasping his hand this time as he had held hers. “I will gladly go with you, but I do not know how to get down from this tower.”

Stefan glanced about, seeing how little she had been afforded in terms of material possessions. Apart from the length of her voluminous hair, there seemed no hope of escape for either of them.

“If I had a blade, I could cut...” he began, reaching for her golden braids.

Rapunzel reeled back, eyes wide with horror.

“No, no, I don’t mean to harm you,” he quickly apologized.

There was no way that the girl was going to part with her precious hair, and he could sympathize with her reaction. She’d hardly be the same without it. In fact, any kind of change was going to be difficult, they both realized. Even as a prisoner, this had been her home for so long, and to have been outside the company of humanity for her entire life -the adjustment would require time.

It was Rapunzel who came up with the solution.

“When you come, will you bring a skein of silk with you every time?” she asked. “I will twist it into a ladder, and when it is long enough, I will descend by it. Then you can take me away with you on your horse.”

Stefan readily agreed. He would have done anything, endured anything, to be with this unique creature. He couldn’t imagine falling in love with anyone else after looking into her deep humid eyes.

“I will come as often as I can,” he assured her.

“But only at evening,” she told him, “for the old witch only comes during the day when there is light to see.”

When the king’s son had left, descending on her golden locks as he’d arrived, Rapunzel felt her heart race like never before. She could still smell his masculine scent in the air, and especially on her hair from the exertion of his hands. She lay on her cot, wrapping herself in her own coils of hair, one hand pressed amorously between her thighs. The vivid and present memory of holding Stefan tight, of his hands in her and her hands in his, of his strong body pressed close; they all feed her mounting passion until the final, breathless moment.

Mother Gothel didn’t visit the next day. This left Rapunzel with nothing to do for the duration of those hours but to pace and worry. She knew he would return, but there was that anxious, terrible fear that perhaps he wouldn’t. Not since she was first imprisoned in the tower had she ever felt so trapped. She looked out the window, praying for the hours to slip by. And of course, she would sing...

Finally, with the first onset of twilight, she heard the patter of hoofs approaching the tower. When she heard the shout, ‘Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your golden hair’, she was already fixing it to the hook before throwing out her braid to him. It was strange, but even though he looked taller and larger than Mother Gothel, he didn’t feel nearly as heavy climbing up. Perhaps her eagerness to see him made it seem less of a burden.

Hardly had he stepped inside the tower then Rapunzel threw her arms around him, and the two newfound lovers embraced for what felt like hours. When they managed to finally part, Stefan showed her what he’d brought with him. In addition to the length of silk, he also carried a small, prepared meal for them to share, and a skin of red wine.

The two sat, side by side on the cot, sharing the exotic cheeses and bread that the king’s son took with him. Using her own cup, she took a measure of the wine as well. The two talked of the future, what Stefan would offer her, and of the countryside vistas that she would soon her. She talked of her music, of the hours spent at the window watching the birds and perfecting her voice. As the darkness settled in, the two hardly needed to speak at all any more, and simply gazed into each other’s eyes for long moments.

Rapunzel had no experience of alcohol, and so the wine she took had a profound effect. She felt all warm inside, and tired in a pleasant way. She leaned against Stefan’s shoulder, whose arm was wrapped around her own.

“Perhaps I should leave now, before it gets too late,” he suggested.

“No, please don’t,” she murmured, hugging him closer. “Not yet.”

“It can get dangerous riding out at night,” the prince reasoned, though he wasn’t very eager to leave either.

“Then stay the night,” Rapunzel said, somewhat ignorant of what that plea suggested.

Stefan looked into her eyes.

“Truly?”

Rapunzel nodded.

Leaning forward, he laid his lips on hers, and they shared their first kiss. Blinking, she was startled at first by this strange action, but she quickly realized how wonderful a thing it was to do. Even when his tongue slipped past her lips, she didn’t recoil, not at all.


Rapunzel's Gift



In the wake of their kiss, Stefan’s hands wandered from Rapunzel’s slender back, exploring of their own accord. When his palm pressed against the swell of her breast, she felt as if she might burst from the inside out. The well-worn dress that was one of her few remaining garments proved a thin barrier to his touch. It was firmer, more intense than the way she did for herself, but it ignited the same feelings, the same longings. She wanted more; wanted everything. Another part of her -that part instilled by Mother Gothel- told her to be wary.

“Wait,” she said, pushing him back. His eyes hunted for an explanation, and so she told him, “I want to undo my braid. Will you help me?”

“Of course.”

It seemed like a monumental task, worthy of a ship’s rigger or tapestry weaver. However, once Rapunzel removed the silver pin at the frayed end, her individual braids easily unraveled into their separate strands. Turning her back to him, Rapunzel let Stefan take over, loosening each braid, combing the freed hair with his fingers. Although she originally thought of this as an innocent way to divert his attention, this act felt as intimate and personal as if she’d let him undress her. It was much the same for him, which was surprising. Her hair smelled fresh and clean, and had a silken texture, both soft and strong at the same time. As more of her hair was liberated, it piled around her, covering her like a golden blanket.

Crouched behind her as he was, Stefan leaned forward, brushing back some of her hair to expose her neck. Tasting the warm delicate skin, he wrapped an arm across her torso, holding her close. Rapunzel’s eyes closed, lost in the moment, even as one of the prince’s hands crept down past her hips to touch her leg. Again, Gothel’s warning voice telling her to stop. But she wanted him so badly, wanted him to feel good, just as he made her feel.

The hem of her skirt had been pulled up, letting Stefan feel the smooth, warm flesh that lay at the inside surface of her thigh. Her head swam with the liquid heat of wine and her own rising desire. She felt as though she could lose control at any moment, and that realization scared her as much as anything else, at least as much as the prospect of being with a man for the first time this way.

“I... I can’t,” she stammered. “I can’t let you have me. I have to remain pure. Mother Gothel would know otherwise, and she can never find out until I am free.”

Stefan withdrew his potentially offending hand.

“Don’t be angry,” she pleaded, turning to face him. “Please don’t leave. We’ll think of something to do.”

“I can think of a great many things we can do,” he grinned.

Rapunzel’s anxiety dissipated, she flung herself into his embrace, literally knocking him over. They simultaneously broke into laughter. Raising her leg into a more comfortable position, her thigh came into contact with the rising bulge at the center of his trousers. The pleasurable pressure turned Stefan’s laugh into another sound entirely. Rapunzel quickly found that the more she rubbed that spot, the more restive and distracted he became.

Dropping her hand, she pressed it to the junction of his legs, in exactly the spot she so feared he would molest on her. He made no complaint, however, and obviously welcomed the application of her curious fingers. She could easily hold the shaft through the fine cloth of his trousers. Stefan unconsciously raised his hips from the cot, fingers twining around a length of Rapunzel’s voluminous hair. She had no doubt this was one of the ‘many things’ he had in mind in deference to the animal act of mating.

“May I see,” she asked in a quiet voice.

Stefan nodded, immediately helping her to pull the waist of his pants down from his hips. Liberated, his erection sprang forth into plain view, drawing a surprised gasp from Rapunzel. Until now, she’d only thought of the male organ of procreation in vague terms, from what she’d seen of animals. Stefan’s was so unlike what she’d imagined. It was certainly larger than what she’d expected, but its shape was infinitely more appealing.

She took it between her fingers, finding the skin warm to the touch. It was soft too, at least on the outside. Within was hard as a rock, so that she could move the flesh over it in a curious and exciting manner.

“Is it alright,” she asked, not certain if what she was doing was proper.

“It’s good,” he assured her, leaning so that his face nuzzled her hair. Indeed, it would have been hard to find a spot on her that wasn’t in some way covered by the long golden strands.

Knowing from her own experience how nice it felt, Rapunzel draped a long tendril of her hair over his penis. She played it gently along its length at first, feathering it, tickling it. Then she looped the hair around to envelope it, and began to stroke him up and down.

They both let out embarrassed, playful giggles, but neither of them suggested she stop. For Stefan, the sensation of being teased and caressed this way was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. He could practically feel each individual strand as they came to rub against his glans.

The act was so intimate, and yet so perverse at the same time. Rapunzel could tell she was pleasuring him immensely, just as she pleasured herself on those endless lonely nights. He hugged her closer, breathing in her scent, making her feel safe and warm in his embrace. She was also feeling very excited between the legs, her moist cunt longing for the same attention that Stefan’s cock was receiving.

When Rapunzel detected the seep of moisture that began to leak from the tip of his penis, she had no idea what it presaged. She only assumed that these wet drops were the mirror image of what happened within herself at these moments. She liked the way the clear goo made her hair stick to his skin, and wondered how it must feel for him. In fact, it was remarkably titillating. Her hair wrapped around his prick like a velvet glove, transmitting the pressure and motion of Rapunzel’s stroking fingers, but with a unique texture all its own.

“Don’t stop,” he breathless pleaded with her, increasingly desperate for release. With the arm he’d wrapped around her slender shoulder, he clutched at her breast through her gown. This time Rapunzel didn’t pull away. She was far too consumed on watching his reactions, to the tense look on his face. If she didn’t know better, she might have thought he was in pain.

Without warning, Stefan let out a strangled grunt, and a flow of thick white fluid spurted from his hard organ. It easily shot through the curtain of hair that covered the tip, soiling the golden tresses as it did so. Rapunzel’s eyes went wide, frozen at the strange sight. Some of his emission had landed on her hand. It felt warm against her skin, whatever the substance was.

“I’m sorry, I should have told you,” Stefan apologized, finally catching his breath. “It’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s only my seed, if you catch my meaning.”

“Oh.”

She wasn’t sure she did, but she trusted him at his word. Within the course of moments, his formerly rigid member had softened and shrunk in her hand. It was yet another strange and funny sight, that she had to laugh. Stefan joined in, more out of embarrassment than anything else. He never meant to profane this gentle and beautiful woman’s hair that way, but lost in the emotions of the moment, he couldn’t pull away. If she had been raised in society, she probably would have been appalled. Thankfully, she didn’t find the act offensive at all. Indeed, it was probably the most special way they could have devised for him to satisfy his desires while keeping her purity.

“When I take your virginity, it will be on our wedding night,” he promised her as they drifted off to sleep together. “It won’t be long before I bring enough silk. And until then, we can take comfort in each other in just this way.”

She readily agreed. All remaining fears had washed away, all those old taboos that Mother Gothel has set against the opposite sex. And the next night, after she had laid him down and stroked his cock with her curtain of hair until he came, she let him lay her down as well. He gently pried apart her thick labial lips and exposed her cunt to his gaze. Her pubic hair, though thick, was thankfully of normal length, and was no impedance to his exploring fingers and tongue.

It was no small moment for Stefan either. Brushing aside Rapunzel’s endlessly streaming locks from her pale, thin legs, he knelt before his lovers sex as if at an altar. He knew almost as little of the female sex as she had of the male before they met, but with the curiosity of youth, and a devotion to her feelings, he stroked and caressed the petals of her cunt until they seeped with her pungent moisture. And when he applied his lips and tongue to the hardened knob of her barely exposed clitoris, she shuddered and cried out from the sheer ecstasy of it. Her fingers twined into her hair, and she begged him not to stop until the rhythmic shudders of orgasm overtook her body.

On what was their most intense night together, they were unknowingly foolish. Having stayed awake for far longer than usual, they remained clasped naked in each other’s arms until nearly noon. Emerging from the blanket of her hair, Stefan quickly dressed while Rapunzel endeavored to reform her tresses into the single braid necessary for his escape. She hadn’t time to properly bathe, but the prince was able to leave before it was too late in the afternoon, promising to return very soon with more silk.

As fate would have it, Mother Gothel arrived not a few short hours later. She called out to her ‘daughter’ and ascended the length of hair. Shortly before reaching the window, the evil hag was brought up short. Something felt different underneath her hand, something in the hair she’d never noticed before. A residue. Something that had once been wet and sticky and which was now dried, but still carried an odor. It was a scent she hadn’t experienced in a very, very long time, but the memory of which caused her to scowl.

She wasted little time in bantering the point.

“How can this be,” she shouted, advancing on the girl. “I thought I had separated you from the world, yet you have still deceived me.”

In her rage, she seized Rapunzel’s beautiful hair, twisting it twice around her left wrist. She brought forth a pair of vicious shears, and proceeded to cut off the golden plaits, letting them fall to the floor.

Rapunzel reacted with shock and horror. She tried to explain that she was still pure, but to no avail. The witch, in her cruelty, took the girl away into deep wilderness and abandoned her there.

That same evening, Mother Gothel fixed the braid that she had cut off to the hook by the window and waited. When the prince called out to Rapunzel to let down her golden hair, the witch did so.

When Stefan crested the ledge of the window, it was not his beloved Rapunzel he found, but the old witch, who stared at him with wickedly shining eyes.

“Ah, you have come to fetch your lady love, but the pretty bird is no longer in her nest,” she explained, “and she can sing no more. The cat has seized her, and will scratch your own eyes out too.

Rapunzel is lost to you. You will never see her again.”

The prince was beside himself with grief, and no small measure of anger. He leapt towards the evil woman, but with the distortion of space and perception available to those who wield the black arts, he instead found himself springing out of the narrow window into the night. The fall did not kill him, but his eyes were scratched severely by the thorns among which he’d landed. Wandering blind in the wood, he had nothing but roots and berries to eat.

He did little else but lament over the loss of his wife, and spent some years in such a pathetic state. Then he heard a voice that seemed very familiar to him. By chance, he had reached that part of the wilderness where Rapunzel had been living in great poverty with her twin children, a boy and a girl. Though the prince had respected her virginity in those nights they shared together, the vagabond she had the misfortune to meet in the woods cared little. He had taken her in the most brutal way possible, and left his seed within her womb to take root.

Rapunzel recognized the lost prince on first sight, and ran into his surprised arms, weeping into his neck. Two of her tears fell into his blinded eyes, and they immediately became clear for the first time in years. He could now see as clearly as ever before.

He took her to his kingdom, where he was received with great joy, and they lived a much happier future than the witch ever intended for them. Free from the magical influence of the hag, Rapunzel’s hair never grew to the unleashed lengths as it had before. Still, she never cut it, and it flowed to just past her waist. When the reunited lovers joined together on their bed, they would often relive their first happy moments by taking that hair and, as Stefan lay back on the bed, his wife would arouse and tease his member into ecstatic release with her golden locks.