Rapunzel | [Prince Stefan X Reader]

one

In the forsaken outskirts of the kingdom of Freyvale, where the last wisps of sunlight succumbed to the all-consuming darkness, lay the dreaded Shadowwood Forest. This twisted realm of ancient, gnarled trees seemed to writhe and twist, as if alive and tormented by some sort of malevolent force. The air reeked of decay and death, heavy with the stench of rotting flesh and ozone.

Unholy creatures lurked within the shadows: goblins, werewolves, trolls, vampyres, and dragons; their neon eyes glowing like embers as they stalked their prey. The tall trees' bark was slick with moss and fungi, their branches tangled with vines that seemed to grasp like skeletal fingers. The rustling leaves whispered eerie melodies, and the ground beneath was spongy with the decay of centuries.

Deeper within the forest, hidden behind a shimmering veil of magical bricks, stood the infamous Spire of Blackstone. This foreboding tower-manor pierced the sky like a jagged splinter, its stone walls seething with dark power. The magic wall surrounding the spire pulsed with an otherworldly things, repelling even the bravest of adventurers.

Few dared approach, whispering tales of the unspeakable horrors that lay within. The wind howling like a wolf through the forbidden forest seemed to carry an unsettling, mournful sigh, as if the very land itself was in anguish. The black tower's peak vanished into the swirling mist, giving the impression that it stretched on forever, a monolith to darkness.

Poison ivy crawled up the walls, as if attempting to reclaim the structure for the forest. Strange symbols etched into the stone seemed to writhe and twist, like living serpents. Rumours shrouded the Spire of Blackstone in mystery, but none spoke of a prisoner within. Some claimed it was a fortress built by a long-forgotten cult, while others whispered that it was a gateway to the underworld.

The locals avoided the place, fearing the unexplained occurrences and gruesome discoveries that often followed those who ventured too close. Yet, within the tower's dank, dripping chambers, a secret lay hidden.

A young girl, with hair as (golden/bronze/black) as (sunlight/coffee/midnight) and eyes that shone like stars in the darkness, was trapped, locked away by forces beyond her control. Her existence was a verboten whisper, known only to the shadows that watched over her.

The black tower's dark magic seemed to feed on her presence, growing stronger and stronger, and stronger with each passing year. And though she was lost to the world, a spark within her still flickered, waiting for the chance to ignite the flames of freedom.

As a servant to the enigmatic Mére Gothel, (Y/N) (Y/L/N)'s days blended together in a routine of chores and duties. She would rise before dawn to start the fire, cook breakfast, and tidy the tower's chambers. The stone walls, adorned with vines and tiny flowers, seemed to whisper secrets as she worked. In the rose and berry garden, nestled within the tower's courtyard, (Y/N) would often pause to breathe in the sweet scent of blooming pink roses and freshly picked berries. The garden's beauty belied the tower's foreboding exterior, a tranquil oasis amidst the darkness.

In her rare moments of free time, (Y/N) would retreat to her beloved painting. With brushes and colours, she brought fantasy worlds to life on canvas. Penelope, her loyal purple dragon companion, would often curl up beside her, watching with curious puppy-dog eyes as pastel colours danced across the page. Hobie, her gentle white rabbit friend, would nibble on fresh greens and veggies, offering soft companionship.

Occasionally, rat and mouse friends would scurry in, bearing whispers of the outside world. They'd visit Otto, Gothel's sly, stinky moss-green ferret, who'd share tales of his midnight escapades.

The kitchen, warm and inviting, was (Y/N)'s domain. Copper pots hung from the ceiling, reflecting the fire's golden glow. Shelves lined with jars of dried herbs and spices filled the air with aromatic scents. (Y/N) took pride in her cooking, conjuring dishes that would delight even the most discerning palate.