Prin-Prin: A Rapunzel Re-write

In a land far, far away, there was once a prince. He later became a king. He isn’t important.

In a land a bit closer, but still far away, there is another prince. Actually, there are two princes, but as no one likes the poorer of the two we won’t talk about him. The prince that everybody adored was named Prin-Prin.

Now, the people of the Kingdom of Phrans didn’t quite mind the pansy nature of his name. It was their dearly beloved and quite noticeably dead queen’s dying wish for her son to be named Prin-Prin, and who were they to say otherwise? Dead people with their heads chopped off, that’s who. Predictably, no one said anything.

Unfortunately, it really hadn’t been the queen’s dying wish at all. The queen, whose title and status erased any need for a real name, died after giving birth to her son. She had been in the process of naming him, all set to give him the name decided upon by both herself and the king as one suitable enough for The Prince, when she died. She hadn’t even been able to get past his title. Left with nothing but “Prin… Prin…” to go on, the midwife had no choice but to use that as his name. It was the queen’s wish after all.

From that point on, the king made sure to always be in the room when any children that were in some way related to him were born.

And so, Prin-Prin came to be the name known far and wide as belonging to the main prince of Phrans. He absolutely loathed his name. As though it weren’t bad enough that the men at court always made fun of him for it, Prin-Prin was also rather… feminine.
He had pretty, bright blue eyes with long, fair lashes, and wavy golden brown hair that reached to his shoulders. Each strand of hair always managed to stay perfectly in place, something that irritated Prin-Prin to no end as the noble ladies were always swooning in love-struck jealousy. Even his bone structure was feminine, the shape of his body being far too slender to allow him to blend in with his court. In Prin-Prin’s opinion, his only redeeming feature was his strong jaw line. It was probably the only part of his face that wasn’t from his mother.

Prin-Prin’s similarity to his mother didn’t end with looks though. When he hit puberty, Prin-Prin began to get bored very easily, something the Queen had been known for. Normal princes would have read or would have gone horseback riding to cure this boredom; Prin-Prin however found the books in his father’s library to be quite dull and he was scared to death of horses. Having nothing else to do, Prin-Prin had taken to going on walks. It was quite un-princely, but there was very little about Prin-Prin that was princely, so no one ever said anything about it. Of course, this could have simply been because of the king’s not-so-subtle threat to chop off anyone’s head if they did say anything about it, but no one much liked to mention that.

On one of his walks late in the year, Prin-Prin noticed a forest that he had always ignored up until then. Wondering how that had happened, Prin-Prin stood staring at the forest for quite some time as he thought about how he had missed such a large expanse of nature. It took him a while, but just an hour before the sun set, Prin-Prin finally figured it out.

He had actually noticed the forest before, once or twice. The reason he couldn’t remember it though was because of those darn leaves. Up until that moment, whenever Prin-Prin walked this way, the trees had been covered in boring green leaves, not a single one standing out among the others. It was all rather repetitive and Prin-Prin, who had a great loathing for all things repetitive, had long since developed the gift of ignoring such things in life. At the moment though, the leaves were green and brown and red and were so very un-repetitive that they managed to catch his attention.

Interest piqued, Prin-Prin left the non-existent path he had been following and drifted into the woods, quite intent on spending the next twenty minutes wandering around. Any other person who ventured into the woods might have stayed for at least an hour or so, but Prin-Prin, as has been said, gets bored very easily. He could never last very long with nothing but the same imagery in every direction he looked. So he decided that he would just have a quick look around before heading back to the castle.

Unfortunately, Prin-Prin had never before in his life entered anything even remotely resembling a forest. He had absolutely no idea that walking straight into a forest for twenty minutes and then turning left to go back was no way to get out. Or at least it wasn’t if you planned on getting out before five days of nothing but walking.

As far as Prin-Prin was concerned when he discovered that particular fact, he had just entered a new level of Hell, completely dedicated to him. His father would have been so proud… if he wasn’t, at that very moment, screaming at servants and threatening decapitation unless his son was found before nightfall.

A great deal of wandering had gone by already, and the sun had begun its decline beneath the far away mountains, the sky filling with pastel colors straight from an artist’s palette. Prin-Prin was more tired than he had ever been in his life. He had just begun debating about how effective a loud scream would be at calling for help when the first painfully off-key notes drifted through the thick branches and met his ears.

At each sharp, flat, or completely inhuman note, Prin-Prin winced. His noble upbringing protested against such a disgusting attempt at music being forced upon him, but Prin-Prin knew that he could no more escape from the noise than he could from the forest. After all, it wasn’t as though there was anyone around that could show him the way out.

Prin-Prin sagged against a tree as the thought came to him. He stared at his sweat-darkened tunic and grimaced prettily, weighing the options. Did he really want to get closer to the abhorrence that was creating that miserable racket? Sure, he was sweaty, and yes, his hair was getting just a bit too shiny for his liking, but was it worth it? The first few hours had been pretty awful, but it had gotten better.

Prin-Prin had seemingly awoken to his more outgoing and nature-loving side not long after the mosquitoes had descended upon his person in a swarm of hunger. And just a little bit after he managed to find himself painfully attracted to the thorny vines that seemed most abundant in the this forest, he had discovered that nature quite loved him as well, albeit sadistically so.

Prin-Prin decided with very little thought almost immediately that yes, it was indeed worth it. There was some kind of sentient being out there and so long as they had a workable mouth and some semblance of intelligence, they could show him the way out. And at that moment, Prin-Prin was more determined than he had ever been in his life that he really wanted out of that forest.

Resolve fueling his movements, Prin-Prin marched further into the woods in search of the voice. He was still searching at least an hour later, which made Prin-Prin wonder whether the source of the voice was moving, or if they were really just that loud. Stumbling over a root that had definitely not been there a second ago, Prin-Prin looked up and felt his thoughts slipping away; the sensation was actually quite reminiscent to when he spoke with his court.

Above him in what was possibly the thickest, largest tree Prin-Prin had even seen was what looked like some sort of tree house. Now, how Prin-Prin knew what a tree house was is unimportant, though quite obvious; it was a house in a tree. There wasn’t exactly a whole lot of thinking involved when the term ‘tree house’ was created.
The voice that Prin-Prin had been following cut off quite suddenly – to his relief – as a much more pleasing to the ears voice called out from somewhere on the other side of the tree house. “Rapunzel! Rapunzel, answer me!”

Curious as to the identity of his savior, Prin-Prin backed further into the woods and crept around to the other side quickly. For some reason, the forest seemed quite happy to let him move around now, something that did not bode well at all for the lovely prince.

He could now see that the woman who had called out possessed a beauty of the likes that the noble women of the court could only dream of imitating. Her skin was a flawless milky white, unblemished by the sun’s rays and much like the pure moonlight that shone through the trees down upon her. In the silvery light, Prin-Prin could see her hair – a sea of spun silk that lay in smooth waves down her back, a top layer of her hair the only bit that was tamed by leather thong – glimmering like fine grey cloth. He could see not her face though, hidden in the woods behind her, and her features which would usually dictate one’s birth right were subsequently not for his viewing.

Prin-Prin could, however, tell quite easily that she was of at least some importance in the world as her gown was sewn of some of Phrans’s finest threads. Having been forced to spend a great deal of time with the noble women lately, Prin-Prin could also tell with a certainty even despite the poor lighting and view that the design was one of the latest fashions in the court. No mere peasant could afford those.

Relieved that he had found someone who could surely help him, Prin-Prin managed to forget all about the voice that tortured him up until he came across the tree house. This oblivious bliss didn’t last long, however, as a movement from the tree house caught his attention before he could make his way to the elegant woman’s side.

When Prin-Prin had first caught sight of the structure, he had noted rather quickly that the design had been quite flawed; there was absolutely no way to reach the tree house, its base high above the ground where no man, nor giant, could reach. When he looked at the building now, he noticed that to his surprise there was a person who had apparently managed to find themselves up there – and it was a woman, no less.

“Mo~ther! You’re doing it all wrong!” The girl at the top said, sticking a moonlit head out the large oval hole that served as a window and jutting a small, un-painted lip out in a pout. “You’re supposed to say ‘Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your– ’”

“Yes, yes, dear, I’m quite aware,” the woman responded wearily, interrupting the teenage girl before she got any farther into her sulk. “However, I’ve no time to play these silly games of yours. I am a witch; I’m far too busy training black cats to be familiars, and turning men into toads, and teaching naïve little children” – the woman’s voice took on a severe note at that point, and though he couldn’t see it, Prin-Prin was almost positive that she was staring piercingly up at the girl – “how to be proper witches themselves. Besides, what is the point in my calling for you to let down your hair for me to climb up when you’ve not even the hair to climb?”

Prin-Prin could just make out for all the distance and the dark that was surrounding them even despite the full moon that the girl was greatly displeased by her mother’s answer. “Because” – she said as though it should have been obvious, with great dramatics emphasizing everything in a way that would have made the noble women swoon – “that’s how it’s supposed to go. What does it matter if my hair isn’t long enough –”

“Rapunzel,” the mother cut her off sharply, “the last time I tried to climb your hair to the top, you screamed your silly little head off in pain and there have been rumors in these woods about dead spirits ever since. Not to mention, your hair ripped, leaving me to fall eight feet to the ground without so much as a broomstick to catch my fall. I am not playing this game with you. Drop that stupid ladder of yours, now.”

There was a great deal of grumbling on the girl’s part, but after a moment in which the young head disappeared, a long rope with a great deal of large knots tied all down it was tossed through the window. The woman stepped up to it and tugged on it experimentally. “What are you doing, mother?” The girl asked, popping her head out the window again, a shoulder-blade long braid flopping against her cheek as she peered over the edge in mild curiosity.

“I am ensuring my back’s safety,” the woman murmured darkly, giving the rope another harsh pull. “All right then; step away, Rapunzel, and I shall be up in a moment.” To Prin-Prin’s astonishment, it did indeed take only a moment for the woman to climb up the rope to the large window, where she then proceeded to climb in. Prin-Prin was left staring at the tree house in shock as the rope was pulled up, thus stranding him on ground level while his only human contact thus far was in the tree tops.

His only intelligent comment was voiced most incredulously as he thought about the woman’s climbing skills. “In that dress..?”
A few hours later when the witch climbed down the rope to the ground, Prin-Prin had to admit that some how or other, she had indeed performed a feat he wasn’t all that certain he could do himself, and in a great big dress no less! To say that Prin-Prin was impressed would be to tell the king that he was a sick, cruel, and sadistic man, only… without all of the decapitating afterwards. It was an understatement.

Now, Prin-Prin was quite prepared to follow after the woman, witch or not, because he was quite honestly that desperate. Someone like him just did not do well long term in big dark forests. If it took getting a witch to help him, then… Well, he just supposed he’d have to spend a few years as a toad. He doubted it could be as bad as that one peasant had lamented to his father.

Unfortunately, fate – and the trees, once again – did not seem very taken with him. He had stepped no more than a foot from his sanctuary of branches that had previously cloaked him, and was making after the witch when a branch tripped him. Literally. Prin-Prin was absolutely certain he saw the demonic over-grown soon-to-be-an-axe-handle piece of wood move. Not that it really mattered, since Prin-Prin had no way to prove it and certainly wasn’t even going to attempt to tell his father that he had been tripped by a tree.

Prin-Prin grimaced, imaging – in quite accurate resemblance to the way the King was currently acting due to the fact his son was still missing – his father’s reaction were he to ever tell him. Sitting on the ground with his legs drawn up to him, Prin-Prin tugged his leather boots off and rubbed gingerly at his stinging ankle, glaring all the while at the cursed root.

Distracted by the pain, Prin-Prin failed to notice two things that he normally would have had he not just tripped over a tree root: one, that the witch was gone; and two, that he was currently no longer in the shelter of the woods. Prin-Prin, however, was alerted of one of these facts moments later.

“– and she really needs to stop popping in like that all the ti– Oh, hello! Who are you?” A cheery voice called down to him. Prin-Prin glanced in the direction of the voice and saw no one. Remembering the tree house suddenly though, he looked up and groaned inwardly. The girl who seemed to live in the house had noticed him, something Prin-Prin had been hoping to avoid.

Perhaps if he ignored her…

“Hey! I’m talking to you! Hello! Are you going to answer me? Lady, snap out of it! What’s the matter with you? Are you –”

What Prin-Prin was, he did not pause to find out. Scowling none too impressively, he hopped to his feet, hand raised with his pointer finger outwards in a classic reprimanding position when his ankle buckled. Prin-Prin couldn’t even get a single syllable out before his leg collapsed underneath him. Finding himself on the ground again, Prin-Prin had to bite his lip to stop the tears of frustration that were begging to come out.

It wasn’t even a minute later that he gave in and began to sob into his hands, all masculine pride being thrown out the window in light of his current crisis. “Oh dear…” He heard the girl say, which was rather impressive and said a great deal about how loud she was considering the distance between them. “Do you need some help, ma’am?” she called down to him.

Prin-Prin merely sniffled in reply, pulling twigs and leaves from his beloved hair distractedly. “Is that a yes then..?” Rapunzel asked, more to herself than to him. Sighing, she disappeared from the window and the long rope from earlier was thrown out, loose end daggling low enough to just brush the tips of the grass beneath the tree. Rapunzel reappeared and slipped out the window, using the knots on the rope to assist her climb down. Vaguely, Prin-Prin noted that she chose to do so in what seemed more like a peasant’s clothing; quite the opposite from her noble-in-appearance mother.
Rapunzel merrily skipped over to him, stopping when she reached his side, and proceeded to kneel down. “Climb on up,” she chirped, offering her back to him.

Prin-Prin gave the offending back an affronted look. “Excuse me..?” He asked, trying to sound fierce as his father would have, but the attempt was ruined by the hiccup that followed it.

“Climb on,” Rapunzel repeated, glancing back at him with a grin. “You don’t expect me to carry you bridal-style, now do you? I can’t climb the rope like that, so you’ll have to make do like this. Now come on already. Mother doesn’t like it when I leave the house.”

Prin-Prin, confused and wary, but too tired and fed-up with the forest floor to argue, pulled his boot on and climbed onto the girl’s back. When they got to the rope and Rapunzel began to climb up it, Prin-Prin whimpered, tightening his grip around her as he imagined how his father would react to this. Rapunzel, however, took his whimper to mean something else entirely.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall,” she said, voice strained slightly by the exertion of climbing the rope with an additional body. “Well, I say I won’t, but it’s really you who that depends on, isn’t it? Just don’t let go and we’ll be fine, ma’am. Don’t look down, either, and we’ll be at the top in no time.”

Prin-Prin might have thought her reassurances – though for the wrong cause – were rather nice of her… were he a woman.

As it was, he simply pursed his lips and sniffled again, closing his eyes until he felt himself tumbling down onto what felt like a hard wooden floor. Aside from his startled yelp, there also came a hiss of pain as a few splinters from the floor found their way between the fabric of his clothes and into his flesh.

“Sorry about that,” Rapunzel giggled nasally, making Prin-Prin shrink back in distaste as he sat up. He forced a smile onto his face, figuring that he should at least thank her for getting him up the tree in the first place.

“That’s quite alright. Thank you for your assistance.”

Rapunzel beamed, “Oh you’re quite welcome. It’s not every day that I get strangers. Mother would be so excited, I think, to hear about this. What’s your name? Where are you from? Why are you dressed like that? And do you need something for your ankle? It looks rather swollen.”

Prin-Prin, who had pulled his boot off again to check on his ankle, sighed inwardly. What a tiresome girl... “My name is Prin-Prin,” he said simply, sure that the name alone would answer all her questions, save the last one. “And something cool would be much appreciated.”

Rapunzel nodded her head enthusiastically and hurried over to a corner, grabbing one of three buckets that sat there and carrying it to Prin-Prin’s side. As Prin-Prin glanced warily into it – and subsequently turned his nose up at the filthy water – she took a seat on what looked to be a bed. “Prin-Prin’s a funny name,” Rapunzel said, fiddling with a couple of locks of golden hair that had slipped free of the short braid. “I don’t mind though; Mother named me Rapunzel. I’m not sure she knew at the time that it was an onion though…”

“I’m sure she did,” Prin-Prin said irritably, eyeing the tree house for anything interesting to look at. The house was large for a peasant, and was decorated with all sorts of girly items that must have cost a fortune. In the top corners on each side of the one-room house, there floated some sort of white orb that provided the room’s light. Prin-Prin had never seen anything like it, the castle always being lit with nothing but torches that lined the walls.

Rapunzel let out an excited squeal and bounced on the bed as she beamed at the prince, who was startled by her sudden movements. “Oh how clever of you, Prin-Prin! You’re right, actually; she did know. She said she named me that because of how she came about to having me. Mother took me away from my real parents because my dad stole onions from her garden but didn’t repay her for all of them. She said that since I was serving as the fifth onion he owed her that she thought the name Rapunzel was appropriate. Kinda silly, is it not?”

“It’s rather inane, yes.” Prin-Prin snipped, his eyes still wandering around the room, “Perhaps your mother inhaled too many potion fumes that night.”

Rapunzel ignored his rudeness as well as his curiosity and pushed on, determined to stick to the topic she had chosen: him. “Where are you from?” she asked, kicking her legs in a manner reminiscent of a small child.

“You don’t know?” Prin-Prin asked dubiously. When Rapunzel shook her head, eyes wide, he frowned. “I suppose you must not get out much then. Very well, I shall tell you. I hail from Phrans, which should be obvious considering the fact that this house of yours is only a day’s traveling from the castle.”

Rapunzel’s expression told Prin-Prin quite clearly that she had not been aware of this fact previous to that moment. “Oh how fascinating,” she gushed.

For the life of him, Prin-Prin could not find a single thing fascinating about what he had just said, no matter how many times he went over his words. “Right…” he said, eyeing her as he pulled his boot back on; if he had to run, he did not want thorns jutting up into his foot. Though truth be told, Prin-Prin wasn’t even sure if he could run, let alone walk... Not for the first time, Prin-Prin found himself cursing the trees of the forest and swearing that he would ask his father to cut them all down as soon as he found a way home.

Speaking of ways home…

“Lady Rapunzel, would you happen to know how to leave the forest?” Prin-Prin asked as politely as he could, though he had a feeling the answer would be no. There was simply no way that she couldn’t know about Phrans but did know a way out.

“No, my lady,” Rapunzel said apologetically. “Mother doesn’t want me to go wandering around.”

“I see,” Prin-Prin said, scowling. “There is another thing I must ask you… Why do you insist on calling me ‘lady’? I am a man, in case you did not notice.” Though in retrospect, Prin-Prin knew quite well that he had not been acting like one. That didn’t matter though; what did matter was that what little manly pride he had was screaming to the heavens about iniquities. No matter how feminine a man looks, calling him ‘lady’ and ‘ma’am’ are not compliments.

Rapunzel blinked a few times in what seemed to Prin-Prin to be overly-exaggerated movements. There was a long silence that stretched out for quite a while before the teenage girl let out a soft hum. “I see… I’m sorry, Prin-Prin, I had no idea.”

Prin-Prin mentally bristled at the fact that she could not tell with a mere glance that he was male, but passed it off with the hopes that she was poor sighted. “You are forgiven, Lady Rapunzel,” he said coolly, for once succeeding in imitating his father. He contemplated refusing to refer to her as a lady any longer as no real lady would have mistaken him for one of them, but propriety urged him not to. After another short but seemingly drawn out silence went past, Prin-Prin decided to ask her about the lights, but Rapunzel beat him to speech.

“Why do you have no skirt?”

Prin-Prin could do nothing but stare at her, mouth open the slightest bit as his mind attempted to process what she had just said to him. “Pardon?” He choked out, unsure of whether she was attempting some poor form of a joke. Perhaps it was peasant humor?

“You’ve no skirt,” Rapunzel said helpfully, standing and going to kneel beside Prin-Prin, who forced himself to his feet and hobbled a bit away from her, “only this material here at your legs.” The girl scooted over to him once more and tugged at his torn pants in emphasis, seemingly unbothered by his attempts to pry her hands away.

“Please, cease your actions, m’lady. They are not dignified,” Prin-Prin said weakly, trying to find common ground in this mess of a topic and falling back on politeness as a last resort. He desperately needed some sort of familiarity at that moment, so it seemed like a good idea for the moment. Really though, he was honest to goodness confused. Situations such as this had never been covered during his lessons that were to prepare him for fawning women of nobility.

Prin-Prin ran over each lesson rapidly in his head and tried to find something useful that might tell what a prince was permitted to do in such situations. He knew he could not step away from Rapunzel any further, as that would be cowardly. And he could hardly step forward, as that was just inappropriate and being pressed again the woman’s body and her to his, was not something he really wanted. Being a man is so difficult, Prin-Prin thought despairingly, cursing his mother for making him as beautiful as a woman, but without the correct attributes to go with his looks.

He needn’t have worried though, for Rapunzel quickly moved on, much to Prin-Prin’s short-lived relief.

“Come to think of it, you’ve no cleavage either,” Rapunzel observed as she got to her feet. She peered at his chest and poked it several times. Overcome by a frozen sort of horror and indignation, Prin-Prin did nothing but gape elegantly at her, which Rapunzel failed to notice as she began looking more closely at the rest of her guest’s body.

“And you’ve such a strong jaw…” Rapunzel gazed into Prin-Prin’s eyes with an adoring sort of awe that reminded him of the noble ladies, but did nothing to reassure him. “Oh, Prin-Prin, you’re such a wonderfully unique lady. I’m so happy to have met you,” she gushed, her blue eyes glittering in the orb-light.

Prin-Prin let out a strangled noise from the back of his throat as he kept his eyes locked with hers in an attempt to keep some sort of control over himself. “I beg your pardon,” he spoke, his voice coming out strangled and desperate, remnants of his earlier anger completely overwhelmed, “but as I have told you, I am not a lady.”

Rapunzel considered him for a moment before nodding. “Yes, yes, you’re right,” she murmured. Prin-Prin let out a slow sigh of relief, thankful that she was finally getting the picture. His hopes were shattered brutally, however, when she continued on. “You’re much too dirty to be a lady.”

Prin-Prin gave her an affronted look at that, which Rapunzel ignored as she continued to list why he couldn’t be a lady. What nerve! Prin-Prin was always perfectly groomed!

Then again… He glanced down at himself and whimpered slightly at the state of his clothes and the amount of dirt under his nails. Father’s going to have a fit… he thought piteously.

After a moment, he realized that Rapunzel was still speaking and began listening again with a despairing reluctance, knowing that he wouldn’t like what he heard. “Ladies are clean and neat, my mother says. They’re also supposed to be a lot nicer than you have been thus far, not to mention graceful. Tripping over roots says a lot about your supposed grace. So I must conclude that you, Prin-Prin, are not a lady.” Despite the offense her words had inflicted upon him, Prin-Prin decided to ignore it all. If it got the teenager to stop referring to him as a woman, then he’d be more than happy to be accused of being a klutz.

“I recall you calling yourself a man earlier,” Rapunzel murmured. “I’m not familiar with the term, so I shall go with the context and deduce its meaning from what I already know. Thus, I must apologize for wrongly calling you a lady. I should have noticed earlier the truth…”
Prin-Prin narrowed his eyes slightly, a growing sense of dread jolting his mind into actively taking control of his body again. He was getting a very bad feeling about this…

“Why did you not tell me earlier, Prin-Prin, that you were a wenchel? That would have been all I needed to hear from you about yourself. I’m so sorry for prying…” Rapunzel’s apology went on for a while longer, but Prin-Prin heard no more of it as his mind blissfully blocked out all noise moments after he heard the term wenchel fall from Rapunzel’s lips.

Pursing his lips, Prin-Prin spun on his good heel and limped his way over to the window at an astonishing speed for a person who had moments before been certain he couldn’t so much as stand. It was amazing how effective fear, outrage, and raw indignation combined were at prodding the body into action and at negating pain when it really mattered. Without so much as another word to Rapunzel, who was inquiring as to where he was going and why he was leaving so soon, Prin-Prin slid down the rope to the safety of the forest floor below.

He did not bother with the climbing part of going down, the situation calling for more speed than that would have allowed. He instead used his clothing as a barrier between himself and the rope burn that he would have otherwise acquired. It did very little for the pain brought about by his body hitting the many knots along the rope, but Prin-Prin could ignore that for the time being. As soon as his feet touched the first blade of grass, Prin-Prin was off, galloping wildly through the tangle of branches and underbrush that seemed to thicken suddenly.

He had no clue of where he was going, but anywhere, anywhere was better than that tree house with that mad girl that thought herself to be a child. He knew that peasants could more often than not have rather uncouth upbringings, but until that moment, he had yet to have ever met one who actually seemed to think that calling someone a whore was perfectly acceptable! That Rapunzel had been referring to him, the crown prince of Phrans made it all the worse.

His attention divided between hissing expletives about Rapunzel under his breath and avoiding the dangerous foliage that seemed intent on capturing him, Prin-Prin didn’t notice until it was too late that there was someone in front of him. With a painful collision of bodies, he and the woman he had run into tumbled to the ground.

Prin-Prin sat there on the ground for a moment, using the sudden stop as an opportunity to try and calm himself down, but only succeeded in making his frustration rise again. He clenched his fists and hit them on the ground rapidly, thrashing his body around as he had a small temper tantrum on the forest floor. When he wore himself out, Prin-Prin simply lay there, blinking rapidly as he sniffled. After a moment, he caught movement in his peripheral vision and turned his head to the side to see what it was.

He was distracted momentarily by the moist chill of the leaves pressing against his cheek and exhaled tiredly, his breath rushing from between his lips in a misty fog. Prin-Prin blinked his eyes blearily and tried to concentrate on finding whatever it was that had movement, vaguely worried that it might be a ravenous animal. The act was rather difficult though as his mind just didn’t seem to want to function properly, the heavy weight of exhaustion pressing down on him insistently. Prin-Prin tried to shake it off, determined to find the creature. He wouldn’t let himself sleep without knowing… He wouldn’t let himself be eaten.

Before he could find the source though, a soft laughter drifted down to him, and Prin-Prin felt all his fears of wolves or other such creatures settle back down. Comforted by this warm and reassuring presence that seemed to be wrapped around him, Prin-Prin relaxed his body and felt his eyes fluttering shut. Distantly, he knew he should get up, as it was rather cold and he needed to get home to his father, but Prin-Prin just couldn’t bring himself to do it. He weakly told himself that he needed to wake up and hurry home, but his body would not move. Deep inside him, the panic that this knowledge brought along began to grow rapidly, flaring into a wild hysteria when he realized that he could not move so much as a finger.

Prin-Prin’s eyes snapped open and he jolted up, his breath coming in harsh rasps as though he had been previously suffocating as he attempted to calm his heart. His head jerked to the side where he thought he saw movement again, but there was nothing but a large dark tree. Prin-Prin swallowed as he weakly forced himself to his feet, using a tree branch for leverage as he tried to figure out what had happened.

A nightmare perhaps..? No, he had never experienced one like that before. One in which the fight to the surface, to reality, was a never-ending pressure that wouldn’t let up, that choked you and squeezed your lungs until you thought they would burst, just before you were freed in a sudden rush off noise, light, and warmth that had been absent up until then. Nightmares just weren’t like that. The mind did not create scenarios like that for the body to suffer through. It just didn’t.

Prin-Prin flickered his eyes around the dark clearing he didn’t remember entering, wanting to make sure one last time that he was alone, and once more seeing nothing save a flickering of something farther among the trees. It didn’t matter though, so long as it kept its current path in the direction away from him. Prin-Prin licked his lips nervously and glanced in the direction directly opposite of whatever it was that was leaving. He bit his lip and took a deep breath, his heart much calmer now.

His mind clearer now that the fog that had clouded it was slowly fading away, Prin-Prin was relieved to see that he recognized this clearing from earlier. If he went along the path that his eyes had just found, he would be safe, home. Prin-Prin jerked his hand free from the branch he had grabbed onto to stand, a vine having somehow worked its way around his wrist, and hurried at a fast limp across the clearing in the direction of freedom. He was never stepping another foot into a forest in his life.

A bit further back, a teenage girl stepped up behind her mother, fury written across her features. “What did you do that for?” She hissed. “I had him. I had him! He was right where I wanted him and you ruined it! Why? Why did you interfere? You said when you left that the mortal boy was mine! Why then did you come back?” When her mother offered no explanation, the girl spun her around and raised her hand as though to slap her.

Her mother caught her hand effortlessly and the girl let out a slight whimper as her mother’s long nails dug into the skin at her wrist. “Do not speak with me in that tone, Rapunzel,” Angelica said chillingly, her face impassive despite the pain she was inflicting upon her daughter. She waited until Rapunzel nodded before she let go and turned back to where Prin-Prin had left. “I did no such thing though.”

“What?”

“The boy was the one who cancelled out your spell, Rapunzel, not I. Despite his… eccentricities… he seems to have a strong will.”

Rapunzel sputtered, unable to come to facts with the knowledge that a mortal boy had broken free of the enchantment she had placed upon him moments after he ran into her mother. “But how? It’s not possible!” she whined.

Angelica gave her a displeased look, “You evidently need to practice more. Come, you have much studying to do, Rapunzel. Obviously you are not quite ready yet to be unleashed upon the world. You couldn’t even defeat the most feminine man in all of Phrans.”

Rapunzel pursed her lips as she followed her mother back to her tree house. She would get that prince one day, she vowed. A blush crossed her cheeks for a moment before she unsuccessfully tried to shake the embarrassing thought from her mind.

And his pretty hair too.