Golden Braids and Dragon Blades: Steampunk Rapunzel

Prologue: Gothel

I stood in the dark under the shadow of the hazel tree. Through the window of their second-floor apartment situated above the fishmonger’s shop, I saw her pace the small flat. She wouldn’t be able to see me, just like he—the father, if you could call him that—had not when he’d come to steal from my garden. I shook my head. Such low people. I fingered the amulet hanging from my neck, a slim metal shard dangling from a braid of silver hair.

I watched her as I had done these nine long months. She was tall and lanky, her brown curls stuffed up under a scarf. She wore an apron over a drab brown dress. Only her massive stomach, protruding like an infection, gave her body any shape. She walked back and forth across the small space, cursing like a sailor, then put one finger to one nostril and blew her nose onto the floor.

I squeezed the amulet in my hand, feeling the metal dig into my palm.

Are you sure? Are you sure this—this—is sacred blood?

The metal grew hot in my hand.

I sighed.

The door slapped open.

“Oi, Deloris. You here, dove?” Craig—the father—called when he entered their one-room flat.

Dove? I rolled my eyes.

“Where have you been?” she asked, slapping him on the head. “I’m worn through. I’m about to take a knife and cut this lump outta me. You get it?”

He lifted a cloth bag, opening it to reveal the bundle of rapunzel he’d filched from my garden. Deloris grabbed the bag from his hand and began eating it at once.

“You see ’er?”

Craig shook his head. “No. Crotchety old witch, probably asleep. I snuck there and back no problem.”

“Go again tomorrah. Understand? God, I hope this thing gets out of me soon,” she said, swatting her swollen stomach.

I clenched my jaw at the sight, reminding myself not to do something rash—at least not until the child was born. I squeezed the amulet once more.

“Any luck with his lordship?” she asked, her mouth full of my greens.

Craig rubbed his hands together. “He said that if it’s got a cock and balls, he’ll take it. You hear that?” Craig said, shouting at his wife’s protruding belly. “You better be growing the right equipment, or we’re just going to let the Thames have you.”

“Could sell it to a brothel if it’s a girl.”

“Enough bastards at a brothel. Might as well just leave it in the woods.”

“Lord, I’m so hungry!” Deloris said, shoving handfuls of the rapunzel into her mouth. “Make sure you go back tomorrah.”

“You already said that. Might not be any more growing by then.”

“Witch’s garden always has a fresh batch by mornin’.”

“Witch,” Craig said with a laugh. “Half-deaf old hag. A steamcar could roll through her backyard, and she’d never hear.”

They both laughed.

I turned and looked at my garden. Craig had trampled my basil in his not-so-subtle attempt at thievery. I frowned then waved my hand over the plants, a shimmer of silver gliding from my fingers. The basil righted once more, springing back to its upright position. As the glimmer of magic cascaded to the soil, a new row of rapunzel sprouted to life. The large, leafy greens would be ready by morning.

I rolled the amulet around my fingers then gazed back up at the window. Deloris and Craig were now bickering. I eyed the woman’s belly.

The ninth generation. That’s what Merlin had promised so long ago. I hoped he was right, because I was tired and done with this world. I looked overhead as an airship floated past. An airship. I shook my head. I was most definitely done with this world. Sighing, I turned and headed back inside.

* * *

It was the scream in the middle of the night two days later that woke me. I’d fallen asleep in the chair that looked out at their apartment. I rose, leaning against my staff, and went to the window. There was a flurry of activity inside.

Deloris was cursing.

Craig flung himself to and fro in an annoyed huff then rushed out the flat door.

I closed my eyes and twisted my hands. Magic rolled from my fingertips. A glimmer of pink light moved from my fingers and across the garden between my cottage to their tiny apartment. It slipped in through the window unseen. It seemed like forever until her screaming abated. It would go more comfortably for her now.

Closing my eyes, I waited and listened. It seemed like time had stopped. Finally, I heard it. A single shrill cry rang through the night.

My teacup sitting in its saucer clattered as it shifted across the table. The windowpanes rattled.

I opened my eyes and stared through the window.

A few moments later, Craig flung open the door, and he and the surgeon appeared.

“By Christ, Deloris. If you were just going to birth the thing yourself, I wouldn’t have fetched the surgeon. Now I have to pay him. Boy or girl?”

I listened hard but couldn’t hear her answer.

“Dammit!” Craig exclaimed, running his fingers through his hair.

Girl.

The surgeon bent, disappearing out of sight. A few moments later, he rose holding a squalling bundle. The tiny screams had attracted an owl who alighted in my hazel tree. And then another and another. I watched as they all gathered. The bats, the raccoons, the creatures of the night. All were drawn by the baby’s cries.

I would need to get her away from here. Away from everyone. Anyone who saw her—even people as rude as Deloris and Craig—would eventually notice the child was special. If they didn’t drown her first.

Craig handed the surgeon some coin, and the man departed.

I turned and looked around the room. The key to my small cottage lay on the table nearby. A glint of moonlight shimmered on it.

I nodded. “Very well.”

Opening my bag, I waved my hand at my few precious belongings, lifting them with magic, directing them to my bag. I grabbed my key and turned and headed outside.

I ambled around the block toward the fishmonger's shop. As I neared the gaslamps, the flames whispered to me, telling me what must be done.

Merlin was right after all. We just needed to wait and watch. Now, she had come.

The surgeon, carrying his medical bag, walked through the foggy air down the cobblestone away from the building, muttering under his breath.

I cast a glance up at the owls perched on the rooftop of the building.

“Get hence,” I whispered, waving a hand at them. “Before someone notices you.”

They hooted loudly and flew off. But they didn’t go far. Large yellow eyes watched from the shadows of the trees nearby.

As I rounded the building, the stink of fish assailed my nostrils.

I went to the door leading to the flat upstairs and slowly climbed the steps. I could hear the baby crying and Craig cursing.

“And just what are we going to do now?” Craig demanded.

“I’m tired. Shut it,” Deloris snapped.

I knocked on the door.

“What was that?” Deloris asked.

“Probably someone to come complain about all the noise,” Craig replied then opened the door. “Look—” he began but stopped when he saw me.

“Well, what is it?” Deloris asked. “Oh, you, quiet down, girl,” she added, scolding the newborn baby.

Craig stepped back, and I entered the room slowly. I eyed Craig. He was a drunk and thief, nothing more. I turned to Deloris. Just under her skin, I saw the shimmer of something that lay dormant in her blood. She merely carried the seed; she was nothing. When my eyes went to the child, however, I saw the rosy pink glow all around her. Fools, couldn’t they see it too?

Deloris rocked the child far too roughly as she glared at me. “Well, what do you want?” she finally asked.

“The child,” I answered simply.

“The child?” Craig asked with a laugh. “Get out of here before I beat you.”

“You grew that child with my rapunzel. Shall I tell the constables how you stole from my garden?”

Craig sneered. “Another word out of you, witch, and I’ll bury you in that garden.”

I smirked then twisted my fingers, calling forth a sparkle around my fingertips. “I would like to see you try.”

“Craig,” Deloris whispered. Wide-eyed, she looked from Craig to me.

“What about a trade?” I asked.

“Trade? Trade what?” Craig asked.

I opened my palm, showing them the key lying therein. “My house for your child.”

The two exchanged a glance then Craig quickly crossed the room and grabbed the bundle from his wife, who shoved it in his direction.

“No tricks,” he said, eyeing me warily.

“No tricks. It is a pact. The child for the house. A binding agreement,” I replied.

He met my eye. “A binding agreement?”

“You understand me.” From the expression on his face, he did. Breaking a deal with a witch—or so they thought me—would result in death.

“I agree,” he said then handed the child to me, snatching the key from my hand. Smiling from ear to ear, he raced back to his wife and began helping her from the bed.

The tiny bundle in my arms wriggled and cried.

“Sleep, little one,” I said, soothing her. The little baby opened her eyes and squinted at me. Even then I could see her eyes were a kaleidoscope of shifting colors. I gently set my hand on her brow, setting a sweet charm of sleep on her.

The baby sighed contentedly then dozed off.

I turned and headed back outside. Rushing down the cobblestone, I made my way to the airship towers. As I did so, I shed the rumpled cloak I wore. Tossing my walking stick into a garden—it quickly morphed back into the form of a hazel tree—I shifted my shape. My features firmed, the lines on my face disappearing as I transformed into a woman in her twenties with dark hair wearing an elegant blue gown and fashionable mini top hat. Even as I walked, I felt my breasts fill with milk. I touched the rags covering the baby. They shifted to a delicate gown, bonnet, and blanket.

I went to the pilot’s station. One sleepy guard and one sleeping airship captain waited.

I cleared my throat politely.

“Oh, pardon, madame. We weren’t expecting anyone at this hour,” the guard said as he wiped tears of fatigue from his cheeks.

“I need a transport.”

“Liam, get up,” the guard said, kicking the cot on which the captain slept. “Where to, madame?”

“Cornwall.”

“Got silver?”

I shook my bag, the coins inside jangling.

The pilot rose, adjusted his shirt. “All right, lady. Let’s go. My God, what a little one you have there. Boy or girl?”

“Girl.”

“She got a name?”

I smiled down at the bundle sleeping soundly in my arms. “Rapunzel.”