tagSci-Fi & FantasyRapunzel Act 2

Rapunzel Act 2


Rapunzel: Act II - The Maiden of the Wood

Rapunzel, a most precocious child, grew up happy. She had been raised by Dame Gothel with much love and affection. Deep in the heart of the Great Wood they lived, surrounded by the fragrant cedars and the stout oaks, the weeping willows and the flashy birches in their coats of silvery white. Rapunzel learned the names and the properties of each of the plants and fungi, but not from the Dame who jealously guarded her arcane knowledge. No, the plants themselves revealed their secrets to her, for she could speak to them as clearly as a man could converse with his neighbours.

Men would dare enter these woods only with good reason. The wild magic still reigned here, and wise folk learned to stay out of the fey lands. Only brave men or fools dared venture here.

Or, perhaps, the driven. Here in the perilous wood Rowan Earth Lord finally found his long lost child after ten seasons of wandering the lands. He knew it to be her after the first glimpse. Her hazelnut brown skin and midnight tresses that licked her heels instantly marked her as such. The slight girl slipped through the underbrush like a phantom, her feet not rustling the vegetation of the forest floor in the slightest way. If he had not seen her moments before he would never have known that a human had ever passed there.

But he did know as he had seen. With a joyous shout he set out in pursuit of his truant offspring.

He had not taken even three steps toward his child when the world went white, suddenly enshrouded in heavy clinging mist that poured through the branches of the trees like water through the holes in a sieve. The heavy cloud beaded up on his skin, slicking him down like sweat. He knew enough about his former lover to recognize the feel of one of her enchantments.

"Come out Gothel," he shouted. "I am here for my child. Bring her to me."

"Can it be that your senses have left you, cabinetmaker? Your presence is most unwelcome. Your child is not here, only my child remains. Begone."

But Rowan would not go, not after spending so long in fruitless searches for his child. "Let me see her, Gothel."

Dame Gothel strode through the woods, the mists parting before her in obedience. She wore not a stitch, her flawless body displayed to best effect by the trinkets she wore. Upon seeing the delectable redhead, Rowan’s scepter twitched irritably in his loins. It had been a long time, indeed.

"Still potent I see, Earth Lord," Gothel said. "But I do not need you."

"Nor I you," he replied. "All I desire is my child. My life is empty without her in it. Without her I shall soon perish."

"Then perish, foolish man. At least you die for something other than a handful of grass! You gave up an innocent babe for worldly desire, cabinetmaker. Death is what you so richly deserve."

"Well I know it." Rowan's heartfelt sob escaped his lips. "But I would see her first, even if only for the briefest of glimpses."

Dame Gothel considered his request and his presence. He had come to find his daughter. He must truly love her. Yet, Rapunzel remained dear to Gothel's heart as well. She would never let her child go.

Despite her callous words the Enchantress did lust for the Earth Lord. She still had a use for him.

"Rowan, if you come within ten strides of your daughter you shall fall down dead. Thanatos shall claim you if you ever speak to her. Such was the geas I laid upon you and your wife. This prohibition even I cannot lift. If you seek to claim your child you will fall into oblivion."

"Death comes for as all," he replied. "If I could spy my child again before I left this world, I would die content."

The Dame considered this. Rowan had served her well in the past, and could in the future. But she would not permit him to have contact with his offspring. The Blood of the Ancients ran strongly in the Dark Child. She would instantly feel an affinity with her father. How would she feel about Gothel then? Would Rapunzel leave her and choose to go with her blood relation? Probably.

This ending Gothel refused to contemplate.

"I shall do better than merely allowing you to see your child, Earth Lord. I shall arrange it so you can spend every waking moment with her for as long as you remain in this place. My only condition is that I will disguise you so she will never recognize you as her parent. Do you agree to this?"

Rowan did not trust the deceitful witch. He had suffered at her hands before. "Only if you swear that this disguise will not physically harm me in any way," he replied cautiously. The wasp stung, the asp bit and the Enchantress lied; each creature behaved according to its own natural proclivities. "I do not want to be with my daughter from underneath the stones of my funerary cairn."

Dame Gothel caressed his muscular chest, running long aristocratic fingers through his curly thatch of blond hair. "So little trust, Rowan. Why should this be so?"

Rowan seized a slender wrist of the Enchantress, pulling her hand upwards, forcing her to stand on tiptoe. Her ankle bangles clinked musically at the sudden motion. "Have a care, Earth Lord. Your familiarity will have severe repercussions."

"It already has, Wood Witch. Knowing you has cost me my wife and my child. Now I have nothing and no one. Death holds no fear for me."

"There are many ways to die, Lord of the Earth. Some fleeting, others dreadfully slow." Although he felt no fear at the threat, he thought it best to obey the woman who could deliver him his child. He released her, letting her fall to the spongy earth. Only the jangle of bracelets and her chiming ankle ornaments made sound.

"So. You can still reason and obey, if only to fulfill your own desires. Very good. I can definitely use you." With that, the sultry seductress knelt in front of the naked man, massaging his member to iron hardness with her preternatural skill. "Some things never change, Rowan. Your member is still beautiful."

"Enough flattery, crone. Fetch me my child."

"Crone? Is this the face of a crone I possess? Do these breasts belong to an old woman?" Truly, they did not. Dame Gothel looked to be a woman in her twenties. Mature, but still close enough to her maidenhood so the rosy flush of youth still endued her limbs.

"I know you for what you are, hag. The fair wrapping conceals your rankness."

"You came to me of your own free will, even when I had the face and form of that selfsame hag. That did not stop you from taking me as was your wont."

"I had no choice."

"There is always a choice," the Enchantress said. "It is just a matter of whether one is willing to pay the price or not." With that bit of wisdom, she dove upon him, feeding his shaft between her plump, moist lips.

Many seasons had passed since any woman had touched him so. Despite her penchant for trickery, he could not deny that the red haired damsel possessed a fair face and form. The old spell of lust she wove around him a decade ago again constricted about his stiffened flesh. Despite his anger and reservation, he found himself enjoying the Enchantress' skill. She knew well Aphrodite’s techniques and always managed to bring him an intense orgasm. He did note a hint of impatience this time, a touch of desperation had been absent from their earlier liaisons.

"My child, woman. Where is Rapunzel?" Rowan felt the faint stirrings of doubt within his breast, even as the great stirrings of lust raged within his stout tool. He could trust the Enchantress' word, aye, but he could trust her to warp those words for her own purposes. "In return for a glimpse of my child I will give you that which you obviously desire from me." He pushed the feeding Enchantress off of his rod and held it flat against his belly. Her still-ravenous mouth reached for him, receiving a stiff thwack across the lips from his rigid member for her presumptuousness. Gothel hissed in frustrated anger.

"What I want you want as well, beloved Rowan. Remember the God's Tool? Remember how I said you would never possess it again? What if I said I could restore it?"

Restored? That would be wonderful! He had felt incomplete during its absence. Its lack had driven Hazel into the arms and beds of other men in the cities. She searched for that which her man could no longer provide. That part of him – the best part – could be restored?

"How, Gothel? How will you accomplish this thing?"

She did not speak. Instead, she again plucked a small vial off of her neck chain, this one as delicate as the nail of her smallest finger.

"The World's Tears? I thought you said they would no longer work upon me?" The rest of his words and thoughts were snuffed out by the hellfire that raged in his loins. Oh, but what a sweet agony! For he knew that the scorching touch of the water heralded even hotter, searing passions within him.

The water that Gothel anointed him with did not come from the destroyed well that once led into the earth's heart. No, she used Rapunzel's Tears, a liquid more puissant and rare than diamonds of the first water. For you see, the happy child never cried.

The liquid had the intended effect. Rowan's scepter became the raging Staff of the Earth, even wider of girth and greater of length that it had been ten seasons ago. Ten seasons of neglect had not weakened it. Rather, it had used the decade-long respite to rejuvenate itself. Gothel had long experience handling him and his magnificent equipment. She did not quail from him. Her mouth wrapped around the substantial head of his cock.

Rowan almost fell forward to skewer her with his spear but he decided to stand still and to enjoy the natural sorcery that Gothel performed upon him. One did not need to be an Enchantress to perform this particular brand of magic. His limbs felt ephemeral, as light as the dust motes that danced upon the breeze, glinting in the rays of sunlight that streamed through the thick forest canopy. But something was not right. An annoying numbness crept into his fingertips and palms, a sensation like that of clutching a hoary, thick icicle from the eaves of his former cottage in wintertime. He lifted his hands to his face to examine them.

His hands and arms all had a tough, scaly skin upon them, a silvery brown covering that thickened even as he watched. Similar, shimmery skin grew upon his loins and legs.

No, not skin. Bark. Tree bark grew upon him!

Rowan tried to speak, to shout a question at Dame Gothel but his voice no longer functioned. He could only crane his head downwards to stare into the guileless, round eyes of the Dame as she sucked the life out of his still-rigid cock. It, too, now possessed a fine silvery bark.

"No treachery here, Rowan Earth Lord," Gothel whispered. "You shall see your child, and she, you. She will come to love you and spend happy days frolicking at your roots and climbing through your strong branches. The dandelion sends out endless legions of its seed but the majority never take root. Your mighty seed has sprouted only once, but such a wonder she is! You shall see her mature for you will live, Rowan. Time moves slowly in the Great Wood. You shall still be here growing strong when the cities of man are heaps of dust upon the plains. Your brethren welcome you home."

The trees around him sighed, speaking of the joy they felt at his arrival, curious as to why he had worn flesh upon entering the Wood and had refused to converse with them at that time. Rowan ignored them, instead stretching his hands up to the heavens, praying with all his might to his god to deliver him from evil.

In this attitude his limbs froze, his upraised limbs sprouting a multitude of slender branches and thick foliage, compound and pinnate in form. The man had disappeared. A slender rowan tree stood in its place, healthy and alive. Gothel still held his staff in her hand, the member looking like a second trunk that had sprouted from the side of the main body, as rowan trees are wont to do. Thick drops of pearlescent sap bled out of the bulbous tip, every pregnant drop gathering at its crown, then creeping down the underside of the staff. Gothel placed her tongue underneath one of them and licked it up with relish.

The drop rejuvenated her, just as she had expected. Each one had similar properties to Rapunzel's Tears.

"As you serve me, so shall I serve you, Rowan. Your daughter shall know you, as I promised." Gothel stayed upon her knees, working Rowan's Staff with vigour, coaxing as much of the sap out of him as she could. It remained somewhat pliant in her hands, but soon it hardened, taking on the texture of wood. She pushed at it, moving it so it pointed up, though still jutted out at a slight angle. There it stayed, rigid as a man's limbs undergoing rigor mortis upon his expiring.

She kissed the head of the staff one more time then departed, calling for her obedient child to attend her.


Dame Gothel honoured her word, as all Enchantresses must. She introduced Rapunzel to the tree who fell in love with it at first sight. Being smaller than the trees surrounding the clearing made it less intimidating. Still, the attractive tree stood strong and healthy. Its clean, straight branches and perfectly sculpted roots pleased her. The little young forest nymph could feel the trees, know their thoughts and sense their moods. But never before had she felt absolute, selfless love from another living being. Not from tree, beast or red haired sorceress. She felt quite captivated by it. As soon as she approached the tree straightened its branches, fanning them in a ecstatic display of welcome even though the wind did not stir. Rapunzel climbed effortlessly into its low branches. She could scale it without thought or great effort for wherever she placed a foot or reached out a hand a branch would appear as if by magic. Never had climbing a tree felt this simple, Rapunzel thought gaily.

She felt so safe in this tree that she promptly fell asleep up there, the rustling, serrated fans of foliage singing her a beautiful lullaby. Dame Gothel smiled at the child and her transformed parent, and left them to be alone with each other. In this form Rowan posed no threat to her. She would permit him his happiness.


Eight years passed, eight glorious years for the pretty girl-child to grow up and become the Ebon Maiden of the Wood, a woman of great beauty. She knew no modesty, for she had never experienced shame. Clothing had no role in her life. Her nut-brown skin felt as soft as satin, yet protected her like tough, old bark. She could traverse a snowfield and not feel cold, or hold a glowing ember and remain untouched by the scorching heat. Besides, other than Dame Gothel – who also went around naked – she had never seen another human being. She did not know that people regarded their bodies as something to keep hidden from the sight of others.

The older she became the further afield she would roam, crisscrossing the Wood and actively protecting it from harm. When an acorn fell on a barren patch of stony ground she would pick it up and move it to a place where its roots could easily sink into the rich, dark earth. A fawn with a broken leg had it set and mended, healed by her dulcet voice and her spellsong. It licked her palm in appreciation before bounding away through the woods. Birds had twisted wings mended, wolves had chipped fangs rejuvenated so they could feed, and so on. No animal would harm her, and all the planets rejoiced in her presence.

One day after doing her rounds Rapunzel felt the longing to return to her favorite tree, the small rowan that stood alone in the clearing. It had been her favorite since Dame Gothel had introduced her to it all those years ago. No matter how many beautiful trees she encountered, this one held a special place in her heart. For a woman who had no roots, that tree marked home. She longed to return to it whenever she strayed, missing her Rowan more than her dam, Dame Gothel. Perhaps she would weave a crown from Rowan’s dense corymbs of creamy-white flowers. Would that not be fun? Anticipation put speed in her step, the nubile maiden running faster than the mountain cat did when pursuing the fleeing hare.

She sprinted through the woods, leaving no spoor in the soft, mossy ground. The branches avoided raking her flesh as they whipped by her. Even the cantankerous brambles refused to snag her long black locks that flowed behind her like a river. So nimble and skilled was she that Rapunzel could surprise a pheasant in its bush or a lynx in its tree.

Or, on this particular occasion, a red-haired sorceress upon her knees while she suckled upon Rowan's Staff.

She had never witnessed such an intriguing activity before. Rapunzel stood fast, staring openmouthed as the Dame took the end of that slender trunk in her gullet, working it in and out of herself with ferocious lunges. Her pale, bejewelled hands played over the silvery skin of the smooth-barked tree, massaging it with deft touches.

The feelings that stirred within her surprised Rapunzel. The space between her legs itched, feeling almost like it did when she had to pass water, but not quite. The tingling sensation came from elsewhere. She slipped her head down her taut belly and into the dark triangle between her legs, searching it for the source of the irritation. She found none, but did enjoy the feel of herself. She kept her hand in motion over her crotch while she watched the Dame at work.

Rapunzel stared at her for a long time, standing transfixed as the Dame worked upon the wooden staff. She no longer used her hands, only her mouth. She ran it over the sides of the pole, working it all over as her own hands played with the crimson berries that capped her creamy breasts. Sometimes, the Enchantress delved between her legs, rubbing herself with frantic strokes, her wrist bangles creating a cacophony that sent startled fowl to the skies.

Ah! Dame Gothel touched herself in the same way as she! Perhaps she could explain this feeling that had come over her. Suddenly feeling bold, Rapunzel stepped forward and approached the kneeling Dame.

So enraptured was she that Gothel did not hear Rapunzel's approach. Just like she often did with brush quail, Rapunzel reached out a cool brown hand and tweaked her target's tail. As the curious girl contacted the round, full ass of the kneeling Enchantress, Gothel squealed.

The sorceress leaped to her feet, turning upon Rapunzel with clawed hands, lightning crackling between them like it did when arcing from cloud to storm laden cloud. At the sight of Rapunzel's grinning face, Dame Gothel allowed the incandescent bolt to vanish.

"What do you here?" the naive girl asked. "It seems like a senseless task, yet you have been doing it for much of the day. Why?"

"How know you this, mischievous child?" A great flush infused Dame Gothel's cheeks, the red perfectly matching the colour of her engorged nipples. Rapunzel found her quite amusing to look upon and broke out in laughter.

"What is it, naughty girl?"

Rapunzel told the Dame everything, how funny she looked playing with the staff, and how much funnier she looked with her scarlet cheeks. For you see, until this moment Dame Gothel had never felt shame around the child. Thus Rapunzel had never witnessed this response before.

She is old enough to learn, Gothel thought to herself. What is the harm in explaining? After all, she will never see a man, not here in the Wood. "I am milking the tree of its sap, Dear Heart. Unlike the maple where you must tap deep, this rowan tree must have its sap worked out of it by using the mouth."

"Oh! Is its sap sweet like the maple's? Must one boil it before they eat it?"

"Much sweeter than the maple, I would say," Gothel said with a lecherous smirk, "and you need not boil it. Come. Let me show you how it's done." Rapunzel knelt in front of the Rowan Staff, assuming the same position the Dame had been in just moments earlier. Then she ran her tongue along the underside of the staff, from center to the tip. Immediately, thoughts emanated from the tree, thoughts that had been absent whilst the Dame had worked the tree. Rapunzel giggled.

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