Rapunzel, Flower Siren Ch. 03

A twig snapped and Sideburns Stabbington's heart hammered in his ears as he drew his crossbow and spun in the direction of the sound in one smooth motion, his finger dancing on the trigger, ready to strike. It could be Flynn or the Royal Guard or—

A timid man in a bard's hat looked up the shaft of the arrow at Sideburns with eyes wide. He threw his hands up.

"Don't shoot!"

Sideburns holstered the bow.

"My apologies," Sideburns said to the bard. "I'm just a little jumpy lately."

"No, no, I understand," the stranger said, "What with all those outlaws about, I imagine we all are."

"Yes," Sideburns said, and he hoped the bard hadn't seen his face on any of the posters nailed to the trees "Those outlaws."

"Like that one guy..." the man said, "What's his name, Flan Rider?

"Flynn Ryder?"

"That's the one! It's as if every other tree is papered with his face. They never can seem to agree on the nose though..."

"Oh? I hadn't noticed."

"Well, I have a keen eye—keen ears too—especially when it comes to suspicious folk."

"Suspicious folk, you say?" Sideburns said. He did his best not to smirk.

"Anyway, that's why I'm in these woods, actually. For the bounty. Perhaps you might be willing to join in and we could split it. After all you got the jump on me and I can only imagine how useful your skill with the crossbow might be in hunting down a rogue like that shady Flynn character."

Sideburns smiled, knowing the bounties on his own and his brother's heads were each twice that of Flynn's.

"You know what," Sideburns said, "You make a tempting offer. Let me just consult my business partner, and we'll let you know."

"Oh yes, of course!" said the bard. "Is he near?"

"Hey Patches!" Sideburns yelled, and Patches Stabbington came running.

"Yes?" he said gruffly, and he indicated the bard, "Who's this?"

"A bounty hunter. He has a proposition for us."

"And that is?" Patches nearly growled as he gave Sideburns a look that said why are you talking to a bounty hunter?

"I have a lead on the notorious Flynn Ryder," the bard said, "And I could use some muscle to bring him in."

Sideburns smiled at his brother as if to say see?

"What do you think, Sideburns?" Patches said.

"I think we could use the money. And if it means we rid the greenwood of this scoundrel Flynn Ryder, all the better."

"That's the spirit!" said the bard.

Patches side-eyed the bard, but he agreed.

"Good!" said the bard, and he extended his hands to the brothers, "I'm Alan, by the way."

XXX

The three of them pitched camp in a clearing near where the Stabbingtons had lost track of Flynn Ryder. It had been days since they had lost Flynn, and they had combed through the woods for days without luck before stumbling across the bard Alan.

Alan pitched his tent next to the brothers' larger shared tent before sitting down with them by the fireside to explain he had a lead on the secret cave entrance to a hidden valley that was rumored to be located nearby, and that they would strike out in search of it in the morning. Alan, like the Stabbingtons, had already combed most of the forest and the nearby towns. Flynn had to have found the hidden valley.

When the fire had died down and the embers lost their glow, as Alan retired to his tent, Patches grabbed Sideburns' arm and pulled him aside.

"What were you thinking," he hissed in a harsh whisper. "You brought a bounty hunter to our camp."

"He doesn't recognize us."

"But what if he does? What if he wakes up tomorrow and sees our faces on a Wanted poster. We can't just sleep in a tent next to a bounty hunter."

"If that happens," Sideburns said, "We do away with him. And if it'll help you sleep, I can stand watch all night."

"We'll take rotating watches."

"That works for me."

XXX

Rapunzel lay in the shallows, bare before the pale moon as it cast its silver light over the supple curves of her body and glittered over the water's surface. Her long golden hair gently swirled around her as though she lay upon a horde of gold. The soft golden waves lapped against her pale skin, and fell over her curves into the crystal pool where it mingled and swayed with the cool, clear water.

She sang in the language of the sirens, her voice teasing the air with its sweet melodic tones. The long golden waves of her hair glowed and rippled, becoming lighter and brighter, floating, flowing, swaying. Her flowers responded to every note and pulsed with purple light, and the soft petals parted. Pollen floated out into the air, pink and shimmering, until the world glittered a pleasant shade of pink.

Rapunzel luxuriated in the sensations that swept over her. The scent of her was intoxicating even to herself, and now that the air was thick with her perfume a blissful, lust-tinged drowsiness slipped over her. She couldn't help but lay in a daze, mindlessly stroking her naked curves and letting pleasure tingle through every inch of her body, letting the golden waves flow over her, lapping against her breasts, pulling her deeper under her own spell.

Vines snaked out over the surface of the water. twisted around her ankle. In her lust-filled daze, Rapunzel barely registered until it had twisted halfway up her thigh, the flower at the tip pulling back its petals to expose the bright pink lips underneath, as plump and delicious-looking as her own.

Though she was a siren and had some resistance to the aphrodisiac effects of her own perfume, she was not immune, and in her delirious state she was tempted to let the flower have its way with her.

Another vine slinked around her chest from behind to cup her breasts. The leaves' soft touches elicited a small gasp from Rapunzel, and she pressed herself into the vine's caresses.

Remembering herself, Rapunzel managed to pull the flowers away before she could give in fully to their touches.

"Don't worry, babies," she cooed as she stroked their petals, careful not to let their lips near her own lest they latch themselves to her and leave her incapacitated in sensual hallucinations and erotic fantasies their nectar was known to induce. "You'll have something to eat soon enough."

She resumed her singing, her own voice echoing across the valley and washing over her again, and soon she was lost in a trance again. Pollen flowed from the flowers in her hair, and she nestled herself in the soft caress of her golden hair as it glowed with a hauntingly beautiful light that reflected and refracted off the cloud all around her until she was hypnotized by her own light. Her mind was caught up in her own spell, and her haunting song carried through the valley, flowing out over the mountains and into the misty cool of the greenwood.

XXX

Mouth dry and palms sweating, Alan-a-Dale pulled the Wanted posters from his pack. He had to be sure.

With a practiced eye the bard scanned the drawn faces. And there they were, staring back at him: Patches and Sideburns Stabbington, a princely sum on each of their heads, far more than was promised for Flynn Ryder.

Alan turned from the papers heart hammering. He'd been right. And now Alam knew that if either of the brothers so much as suspected he knew about the price on his head, it could all be over.

That's why it would be crucial for him to get his fear under control, to project an air of levity and calm—a task that should be easy for the son of a nobleman trained in courtly manners as he had been. And as a bard he had practiced presence—a necessary skill of his craft. Nevertheless, he couldn't help being nervous.

Still, the upper hand was his. He was sure the brothers would be wary of any traveler, as any seasoned outlaw would be, and they had no doubt managed to piece together he was a man of means considering he had offered to hire them as muscles. With any luck they would think he was soft, just the pampered son of a noble playing adventurer. They would underestimate him.

They had no way of knowing he had been a knight in his home country, that he was well-trained in formal combat, no way of knowing his cunning and prowess in roguery, that in fact he was one of the most wanted men in all of Knottingham.

No, he would use them to capture Flynn Ryder, and take the king and queen of Corona's reward for all three.

And why not? He and the Merry Men had always stolen from the rich to give to the poor. And if the rich just handed over the money willingly, all the better.

But if Alan were perfectly honest he had not come so far from his home just for charity. The Sheriff had stolen his family's farms under the pretense of "imminent domain". And what for? To let them go fallow and the townsfolk starve as retribution for their love of the infamous Robin Hood?

It had cost Alan everything. More than just the wealth of the land itself, he had been stripped of his title—Sir Alan of the Dale no more—just a common thief unable to marry his love, the Lady Ellen of House Clare.

And that is when he had turned to bounty hunting. Not in Knottingham, of course; Alan could never turn on the Merry Men. So he had set out for Corona and found out about the price on Flynn's head.

It would be more than enough to buy back his lands and pay off the Sheriff—after all, who could know the Sheriff of Knottingham was a Capitalist before all else like one of Robin Hood's Merry Men? The greedy wolf would happily take a bribe if it meant more to come in taxes he could skim to line his own pockets with. But with the addition of the Stabbingtons' bounty, Alan would have a nest egg for the Lady Ellen and himself in the years to come if anything should go awry.

Alan smiled to himself as he placed the posters back into his pack. He and his love would be married before next Spring. It was perfect.

He donned his red minstrel cap and whistled to himself as he stepped out of the tent. And that's when he heard the siren's song.

XXX

Patches wasn't aware he had dozed off until the song woke him. He had been on watch at the time. Now the night was broken by a feminine voice, soft as a sigh, and clear as crystal in the night air. There were no words, and the voice was hauntingly beautiful.

Sideburns stirred on the other end of the tent, rubbing his eyes.

"What's that sound?" he asked, groggily.

"I don't know," Patches said, "It's not our bard friend, I'm sure of that. Probably just a woman singing."

But he knew it had to be more. The song tugged at his heart strings in ways he couldn't explain. He felt drawn to the sound, as if sitting in the tent would be more effort than following the sound.

"But what's a woman doing singing in the middle of the night?" Sideburns said.

"I don't know," said Patches.

"That sound can't be human. It's too beautiful. It's too—" Sideburns's voice quivered, as if he was straining to resist its pull.

"You feel it too," said Patches.

"It must be a siren."

"Sirens live in the ocean, dimwit, not the forest. Even the closest lake is back near the castle, and that's the other way."

"There could be a lake in the forest," Sideburns said, and he stood, "Or a pond or a stream. Maybe the siren swam upstream."

"It's not a siren," Patches said. But even as he said it he could feel the song swirl through the air, curling around his mind.

"The Holda then?"

"The seductress of the forest?" Patches scoffed. Sideburns could barely see his brother's face in the dark, but he knew he was rolling his eyes. "That's just a legend."

"And so are sirens. But men have been disappearing lately. They just walk into the forest never to return."

"Does the Holda even sing in the legends?"

"I don't know," Sideburns said.

The song grew louder, and both brothers nearly gasped at the intensity of their need to leave the tent.

Sideburns was the first to cave. He stepped out into the cold night air, drawn by the siren song.

"Sideburns! Where are you going?"

"I have to!"

"You have to what?" Patches hissed.

But he felt it too. The soft buzz in the base of the skull. Every note weaving a spell tighter and tighter around his heart. He strained against the impulse to follow the voice, but one foot in front of the other he and his brother obeyed.

"You were right," Patches said. Everything was growing fuzzy. He could barely think. "It's a siren."

"Yeah. That'll be my consolation when she's drowning me in a river."

A low fog rolled through the forest. The air became sweeter and more humid. In the distance, a golden glow shone through the fog.

"Look on the bright side," Patches said, his own voice sounding to his ears, "Sirens are really pretty, right?"

"Right," Sideburns said with a drunk-sounding laugh.

And then the song stopped. The golden glow ahead of them slowly dimmed. The spell was broken, and they were left standing in the middle of a tunnel. Mushrooms glowed in the corners of the cave, and ivy draped over the entrance they had just stumbled through.

"This is the secret entrance," Sideburns said, "This is where Alan was going to take us."

Patches nodded.

"We'll come back in the morning. Hopefully the siren or whatever that was will have moved on. We'll have to be especially careful."

"Is it really that important? Maybe we should just cut our losses and—"

"Of course it's that important. Ryder has the crown. And we can't just let him waltz away with the literal crowning achievement of our hard work. He needs to pay."

They returned to the camp, too spooked and exhausted from the night's strange happens to speak any more, and slept. Their dreams were invaded by the song, beautiful and haunting, and what they imagined the lips that sang them might feel like.

It wasn't until the morning that they discovered Alan the Bard was missing.

XXX

The rest was a blur for Alan. Stumbling through the dark and the undergrowth towards the golden light, his mind wrapped up in the coils of the siren song. The song spoke to his soul and coursed through the entirety of his being.

He knew if the tales he had told to so many eager men in verse and rhyme were to be believed, the woman who sang to him would enchant him with her beauty and devour him.

Let her, he thought, feeling his mind succumb to the call of the song.

Anyone else would struggle to maintain control at the sound of the siren song, but his practiced ears could hear a sweet subtly to the song, notes and little flairs the untrained ear could not pick out.

What would otherwise be a point of pride for the bard only made the influence over him all-the-more irresistible; the song wrapped around his mind, and with more footholds to latch onto it did so faster. He tried to resist, but every attempt only left him drained.

XXX

Alan stumbled into a dream. He didn't remember when the greenwood had fallen away, but now he stood in the middle of a stream. Exotic flowers lined the banks and a thick pink haze hung all around, glowing, seeming to pulse with every note of the siren song.

It was the cold water lapping at his thighs that brought him back to consciousness. He waded against the current toward the siren song, but progress was slow in his soaked breeches, so he removed them and let them float downstream.

The pink haze thickened into a billowing fog as he came nearer, the song growing stronger, its influence bending his mind with its sheer power. Desire flooded his body. His heart hammered, his soul sang in harmony with the siren, and he knew—he just knew he would be singing songs of her beauty for the rest of her life.

In the distance appeared a golden glow. Alan could feel the power emanating from it, could feel himself being drawn closer, unable to fight the pull of the song.

She lay bathing in a crystal pool. Her hair fell all around her and glowed a brilliant gold, the waves responding to her song with pulses of golden light. Purple flowers adorned her hair, and a pink cloud swirled from them.

Vines twisted around her body, accentuating her form as much as concealing it.

With a single glance, Alan knew he loved her.

She rose and moved smoothly toward him with her eyes locked on his like a predator fixated on its prey, ready to pounce, ready to devour.

"Hello, my love," she said.

"I ... I know you're a siren," Alan blurted.

Why had he said that?

"Aren't you astute," Rapunzel purred, and a puff of pink pollen washed over him. "And what if I am?"

He didn't have a response for that.

"I... came to find Flynn Ryder."

She tilted her head in thought.

"The name rings a bell."

"If you know where he is—if you know anything—just let me know and I'll be on my way."

"Oh, but what fun is that?"

"I..."

He looked confused.

"I don't know?"

Rapunzel laughed.

"Please. Just tell me, have you seen any man like this."

He pulled a wanted poster from his pack. She didn't even look at it.

"I'll tell you whatever you want to hear if you love to me."

"I-I can't," Alan stuttered, taken aback by her forwardness, "I'm pledged to another. We're to be wed in a month's time. After I find Flynn Ryder."

The long trail of her glowing golden waves wove in her wake in an ever-tightening spiral as she stalked around him.

"Just one kiss then?"

"I-I can't," Alan said, "My love is waiting for me back home."

"But how will you find this Flynn Ryder without my help?" she cooed, "Don't you want my help?"

"Y-yes?"

"Then kiss me," Rapunzel said.

Alan tried to refuse but he could feel his will slipping.

"She won't mind," said Rapunzel, and she pulled him closer, "It's just one kiss, isn't it?"

"But—"

She stroked his cheek and batted her thick lashes at him.

"She doesn't have to know."

"I-I-I..." he sputtered, "I just can't."

"Oh, come on! It's only a kiss. Just one little poisonous kiss."

"P-poisonous?"

"Oh," she said, and she chuckled. "Did I say poisonous?"

More pollen puffed in his face and he staggered.

"I... I don't remember..."

Another wave of pollen swept over him. His mind reeled.

"Don't remember what?" Rapunzel taunted.

"I..."

What was it he had forgotten again? He couldn't remember, not with the beautiful siren before him. Not with her emerald eyes drawing him in as if by magic. Her hands against his cheeks, pulling him closer. Her plush purple lips poised to take his into them.

"I promise you won't live to regret it," she whispered into his mouth

And then her lips pressed against his.

The kiss seared his lips and she pulled him close, flush against her breasts. Her perfume was all around him. Her soft locks enveloped him.

Time slowed to a crawl. Her tongue slipped between his lips, danced gracefully over his own. He barely had time to press in when nectar, sharp and sweet, rushed over his tongue and dripped down his throat.

Rapunzel's kiss lasted little more than a second, but the damage was done. She released him with a loud "mwah!" Her toxic kiss sizzled on his lips.

He stumbled backwards with a series of strained gasps. He grasped at his constricting throat, his swollen, purple tongue extended, every nerve alight, not with pain but with pleasure. Pleasure so intense that it raged through his body in a matter of seconds and left him numb to any feeling but pleasure and an overwhelming love for the beautiful siren that smiled down on him as he fell back into a bed of flowers.

Vines twisted around him, and purple flowers kissed his skin. Pink dust swirled around him. Everything blurred. Needles pricked at the back of his mind and stars exploded out of the corners of his eyes; spots filled his vision. The black around the edges closed in as Rapunzel lay down beside him.

"Oh my love," she cooed, "We could have had so much fun..."

"I-I could still..." he gasped, desperately trying to speak coherently around his swollen tongue.

"Oh no no," she laughed. "It's too late for that, my love. One kiss, remember? I promised."