The Prison Tower

Rapunzel listened to the monotonous music of the heart monitor as she stared at the blue sky beyond her window. She had run beneath it once. She had played in the garden, free and wild. She had savored the bitter-sweet smells of spring and the bright brittle touch of winter air. That, of course, was before the sorceress had captured her and placed her in this tower. It was for her own good. Rapunzel knew that, of course. But she still yearned for the cut grass and the wind-fallen apples of her youth.
A shrill whistle sliced the air. “Hey Princess, you up there?”
It was one of the Knightly twins, Gerard if she wasn’t mistaken. He’d been coming round a lot lately, ever since he had heard her singing the songs of her childhood at the window one warm day. He always asked her to sing, to come out and sit with him. She could never do that.
“Princess, sing me a song. Peach Blossom and Roses… Asphodel in Summer... Anything.”
“Go away! I’ve sung my songs,” Rapunzel called back with a cracking voice.
“Then come out and sit with me. The birds are happy, the sun is shining and the sky is blue. It’s a beautiful day for love and joy.”
“Leave me be,” Rapunzel called. “I must stay in my tower.”
“Come out, Princess,” Gerard called again. “Come out or I shall come in to you.”
Rapunzel laughed in derision. “Come in, if you can.”
She listened as Gerard searched the base of the tower for a door and found none. She heard him search again and find no staircase to her bower. There was no entrance and no egress from the tower; none could enter or leave. The protection of the sorceress was perfect. It had to be, to protect her. She ran a brush over her aching scalp as she waited for him to return.
“There is no way into your tower, Princess,” he said at last. “Unless you help me to get in. Let down your hair and I will climb up.”
Rapunzel froze in her caresses and choked back a tear. “My hair?” she said. “My Hair?”
She leaned painfully out of the window and stared down at him. Then she hurled the brush at him, trailing fragile, white-gold strands. Her weak throw missed but Gerard reached to pick up the brush and smelled her perfume. She bit her lip as she watched.
“There is my hair. The sorceress steals it.”
Her voice hissed between gapped teeth as she rubbed a hand over the tear on her cheek.
“It’s a payment for my safety. Now go away!”
Gerard gave her a smile and placed the hairbrush in his pocket. There was something about his look that she had not seen in years. A hunger? No a desire. It frightened her and thrilled her at once.
“Thank you for my gift, beautiful,” he called. “I will keep it forever. And I’ll find a way into your tower, I promise you.”
Her knuckles dug into the plaster of her windowsill as she watched him leave. She tried to breathe past the tight knot in her throat as she reflected on his words. She had been called beautiful, once. Years ago, almost before remembering, she had been called many things: a princess, an angel, a goddess – all compliments of her beauty and her wit. But that had been before the sorceress had taken her and built a tower to protect her. Before she had been sheltered away from harm. Now, the men no longer came to worship her. They no longer came at all.
Except Gerard, she thought as she staggered back to her bed and fell into a fitful sleep.
He came every day after that. At first, he tried to climb up her tower, but the walls were too slippery to get a purchase. He tried to find a ladder, but nothing was long enough to reach her safe retreat. He found a ram and tried to smash his way in, but the wood splintered and cracked as soon as it touched the solid stone of the tower. Each time he assured her he would find a way in. It was sadly amusing to watch him try, and Rapunzel found herself curiously speculating as to what he would do next.
Soon he stopped trying to break in and began trying to coax her out. He came with a lyre and sang her own songs to her. It was sweet, but the smile she gave him was one of regret that she hadn’t sung in many months now. The next day he tried flowers, bringing her gifts of chrysanthemums and forget-me-nots, of sunflowers and snowdrops. He asked her to come down and help him plant a garden to her loveliness. She bit her lip but told him again she could not leave the tower. She came to treasure his visits, bittersweet though they were, for they were her only contact with anyone except the sorceress now. Then one day he came without gifts.
“Where are your presents?” Rapunzel asked him.
“I do not know what to bring you,” he replied. “There is no flower lovely as you. There is no candy as sweet.”
Her brow formed a scowl of its own accord. “How can you say that when I look like this?” she said. “How can you say I’m beautiful? Look at me! The sorceress has stolen my hair… my teeth… Her protections rob me of my breath. I am ugly.”
“Rapunzel,” his use of her real name startled her. “Look into my eyes. Even across this distance you will see what I do.”
She gazed down at him, staring into his perfect almond eyes. She could barely see their color from this distance, let alone what they reflected, but the way his mouth curved and his brow flattened told her everything. He didn’t see flaws, he saw power in fragility. Where she saw weakness he saw strength. And as she stared at him in amazement, he vanished.
“Gerard!” she called and she leaned further from the window, so far that she almost fell. “Where are you?”
“Right here,” a voice said from behind her.
She screamed and spun around, falling in her surprise. He caught her and held her gently. His arms were a cradle and a wall stronger than even the tower’s. His fingers massaged her bruised body with kindness.
“How did you…” she asked as he leaned in to steal a kiss. She didn’t attempt to break it until he did. She was too startled to even think of doing so.
“Get in? You opened the door.”
They touched then, as lovers do. When Rapunzel awoke, she was unable to work out where she was. Everything seemed different. She was still in a room, but the sheets on the bed were softer. The arch of the window was more graceful. Even the monitor, her companion for forgotten years, had disappeared. In its place stood an old table on which a cricket sat and chirruped its own soft rhythm; it was equally monotonous yet far more soothing than the beeping she had known.
The beauty of the place made her afraid and she curled into a ball, rocking against her thighs. Beside her Gerard stirred. That was when she realized they were both undressed and remembered what had happened. Rapunzel gathered the sheets about her and trembled.
“Hey, Princess, what’s wrong?” Gerard raised a sleepy hand and caressed her back; she shrank away from him. “You seem scared.”
“I… I have to go home.”
“But Princess, you are home.”
“What are you talking about? I don’t know this place. Where did you take me?”
He chuckled, it was a sound meant to comfort but it merely annoyed.
“Where did you take me?” she repeated.
“I didn’t take you anywhere, Princess. Though you might have taken yourself.”
“What are you talking about? Where am I?”
“I told you Princess, you’re home.”
“Don’t say that! This isn’t my home. You kidnapped me when I was sleeping.”
Gerard tried to speak, but she couldn’t hear him. The sorceress would be furious if she found Rapunzel gone. She had been the one Rapunzel had relied on for years for everything and to abandon her so would be shameful. For both of them. She had to get home.
“Take me back to the tower,” she demanded.
“But Princess, you never left,” said Gerard.
Rapunzel scowled at him for a moment before she saw the room begin to change. Once more the sheets grew coarse. The moon-softened form of her window glinted with a cold sharpness. And the cricket on its table transformed into the heart monitor, its beep electrically shrill.
“You never left,” said Gerard. “I think you just forgot it was a prison for a while. Now come lie down and forget again.”