Rapunzel | [Prince Stefan X Reader]

prologue

New York City, 2002

The city's iconic skyline stretched towards the heavens, a steel and glass behemoth that seemed to defy gravity. The Twin Towers of the World Trade Center, majestic and unyielding, stood sentinel over the financial district, their rooftop antennas reaching for the clouds.

The sun's rays danced across the towering skyscrapers of Midtown, casting a kaleidoscope of shadows on the concrete canyons below. Billboards and neon signs blazed like fireworks in Times Square, while the art deco elegance of the Chrysler Building and the Empire State Building added a touch of vintage glamour to the city's modern visage. In the streets, a colour swirl of humanity surged forward - businessmen clutching briefcases, tourists consulting maps, and vendors hawking everything from hot dogs to designer knockoffs.

As the eye traveled downtown, the city's patchwork of neighborhoods unfolded like a vibrant tapestry. The historic brownstones of Brooklyn Heights and Greenwich Village stood alongside sleek glass high-rises, while the bustling streets of Chinatown and Little Italy overflowed with colorful markets and restaurants.

In SoHo, cast-iron lofts and trendy boutiques vied for attention, their fashionable façades reflecting the neighborhood's artistic flair.

The Hudson River waterfront, once a bustling hub of industry, was transforming into a scenic promenade, its piers and parks offering stunning views of the New Jersey Palisades. Amidst this whirlwind of activity, the city's enduring symbols - the Statue of Liberty, Central Park, and the Brooklyn Bridge - stood as testaments to its timeless spirit, a melting pot of cultures, styles, and eras that made New York City a place unlike any other.

As we meander through the city's winding streets, the sounds and scents of the bustling metropolis envelop us. We navigate through the West Village's charming grid, passing by historic churches and quaint shops. We turn onto Charles Street, where the iconic White Horse Tavern, a haven for literary giants, stands as a testament to the city's rich cultural heritage.

Crossing Seventh Avenue, we enter the realm of trendy boutiques and artisanal eateries. The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafts from a cozy coffee shop, its sign reading The Daily Grind. Above the shop, a nondescript door bears a small plaque: 151A. A narrow staircase, tucked between the coffee shop and a vintage clothing store, leads upward, disappearing from view.

The façade of the building, a classic 19th-century walk-up, shows subtle signs of wear, its brick exterior softened by the patina of age. A faded awning above the coffee shop's entrance bears the remnants of a once-vibrant logo. The windows on the upper floors, adorned with intricate fire escapes, seem to gaze out upon the city like quiet sentinels.

We pause at the foot of the stairs, the hum of the coffee shop below mingling with the distant sounds of the city. The door at the top of the stairs, marked only by the simple plaque, beckons us upward, promising a hidden world of creativity and inspiration within. We climb up the narrow staircase, the wooden steps creaking softly beneath our feet. At the top, a plain wooden door bears a small sign: "Barbie's Art Studio." A delicate, pink, hand-painted logo - a palette and brush.

The door, painted a deep shade of indigo, seems to blend seamlessly into the surrounding shadows. A slender brass doorknob, polished to a warm sheen, invites the visitor to enter. Above the door, a transom window, its glass etched with intricate pink floral patterns, filters the soft orange-pink glow of the afternoon sun.

To the left of the door, a bulletin board displays a colourful array of artwork - sketches, watercolors, and collages - created by the studio's talented young artists. A few carefully placed spotlights highlight the vibrant colours and textures, casting a warm, inviting glow.