Rapunzelle: an Everland Ever After Tale

by Caroline Lee

  There was a moment of stillness. Zelle was sitting ramrod-straight, her beautiful green gaze locked on his face, her expression showing none of what she felt in reaction to his story. Did she understand? Understand that the lost princess was likely her? The woman pretending to be her mother pressed against Zelle, her arms tight around the younger woman, her expression worried and not a bit sick-looking. Jack was still stoic, but finally opened his mouth, probably to demand Dmitri stop his tale.

  Dmitri forestalled him. “My parents hired detectives and investigators, who eventually uncovered a death notice of Lady Sophia, my mother’s friend. She’d died in New York, in a hotel. There was no mention of her little daughter. My mother died, after a short illness, believing that she’d failed her goddaughter. I was in London for school at the time, but when I returned, my father gave me all of the information he had on the case. When he passed away in January, he made me give him a deathbed promise.”

  “Your quest.” It was the first she’d spoken since entering the room, since he’d begun his story, and Dmitri couldn’t ignore her.

  Turning to meet her gorgeous, haunted eyes, he nodded once, willing her to understand, to believe that he would never purposefully hurt her. But she had to know. “My quest.” He took a deep breath, not releasing her eyes. “My father tasked me with coming to America, with finding the lost princess. And I believe I have.”

  Zelle exhaled at the same time he did, her shoulders slumping, her eyes filling with tears as she twisted away from the woman she believed to be her stepmother, towards Jack Carpenter.

  “You bastard.” The older man’s curse was a low whisper, and Dmitri heard the hate and pain there. “You think this is how we wanted her to find out?”

  “Find out what, Papa?”

  Both men ignored her for now. “I don’t know how you intended, sir, but I’m not leaving here—this room or Everland—until she knows.”

  “You’re leaving? Until I know what?”

  The man calling himself Jack Carpenter pushed away from the mantel, and crossed to the settee, ignoring everyone but Zelle. He dropped to his knees beside her and took her delicate hands in his. “I’m so sorry, Zelle. Your mother and I, we talked about it… We didn’t know how you would react, so we decided… We were going to tell you at your next birthday. When you turned eighteen.”

  Dmitri wasn’t going to let that pass. “Wilhelmina Gertrude would’ve turned eighteen on June fourth of this year.”

  Meredith closed her eyes on a moan as she turned away, and Jack cursed again, under his breath. But his eyes never once left Zelle’s, and from this angle, Dmitri was a little disturbed to see the love, the desperation, on the older man’s face. “I’m sorry, Princess. August first was just a date your mother chose when we realized that you needed a date to celebrate. We would’ve told you, I swear.”

  In the half a year since Otets had given him this burden, Dmitri had imagined plenty of scenarios; that he’d find proof of the girl’s death; that she’d been raised in some filthy hell-hole her kidnappers had dropped her in; that she’d disappeared entirely. He’d never once considered that she’d been raised by caring and loving parents who only wanted the best for her.

  But in this moment, seeing proof that the Carpenters had lied to her all of these years, he didn’t feel relief. Didn’t feel elated, to know that he’d solved a fifteen-year-old mystery. No, he’d thought of the way this revelation would devastate her, but never considered how her parents would feel.

  Because, looking at the pain on the Carpenters’ faces, he knew they were devastated too.

  “What, Papa?” Her whisper was faint. “What would you have told me?”

  That’s when the older man’s eyes filled with tears, and he looked towards his wife. Meredith squeezed Zelle’s shoulders, and said simply: “That we’re not your parents, honey.”

  “I know you didn’t birth me, but you’re still my mother.”

  Jack’s forehead dropped to Zelle’s knees, and he clutched her hand like it was a lifeline. Seeing this pain made Dmitri feel like an interloper. A terrible person, for bringing this pain. But Meredith just shook her head slightly and met Zelle’s eyes. “You’ve been my daughter for more than fifteen years, honey, since I met your father. You were the part of him that I fell in love with instantly. He wasn’t what I’d expected, traveling way out here, and I nearly turned around and went home. But seeing you, seeing how much he loved you… I knew that any man who loved you that way was a good man.”

  A muffled noise from the older man, and Dmitri saw his shoulders shake. Zelle extricated one of her hands and brushed it against Jack’s hair. “I don’t understand, Mother. Papa?”

  “I love you, Princess.” Jack sat back on his heels then, tear tracks down his cheeks. “Never doubt that.” Zelle nodded, hesitantly, and the older man swallowed, and look down at the hand he held. “I wasn’t married before Meri, Zelle. I’m not your father. You came into my life when you were about a year and a half, and I knew that I couldn’t let you go.” His voice dropped to a whisper as his chin dropped to his chest. “I loved you from the moment I set eyes on you.”

  Her hand had stilled, and she whispered “Princess,” ignoring Jack’s flinch. “You’ve called me ‘Princess’ my entire life, Papa.”

  Another flinch from Jack. “Because you were my Princess, Zelle.”

  “Honey, we knew that you were special, but we had no way of finding your real parents, and there was danger for you back East. So your father and I, we…we decided that you would be better here, not knowing. Believing that we were your parents.” While speaking to Zelle, Meredith turned her haughty glare on Dmitri, still standing in front of the windows. “We’ve tried to protect you, honey. From anyone who would come here and hurt you.”

  For a long moment, none of the three of them moved or spoke. But then, Zelle’s fingers slowly smoothed across the hair of the man she’d called ‘Papa’ her entire life, in a sort of benediction. “There, you see?” The face she turned to him was lacking any sort of emotion at all; nothing at all like the Zelle he’d come to love. “My parents took me in and sheltered and loved me, when no one else would, Mr. Volkov. They’ve kept me safe, when no one else could.”

  And Dmitri felt his stomach clench. Mr. Volkov. Of course, of course she would choose the couple who raised her over him, his story. Of course. And he should be thrilled that she was finding a way to come to terms with this revelation; watching Jack’s shoulders slump, Dmitri knew the couple were relieved to hear her words. But somehow, it wasn’t enough. There was more here, and even though he’d already lost her regard—Mr. Volkov, indeed—she needed to know.

  Jack and Meredith Carpenter weren’t her parents, but was she the missing princess? Was she really Rapunzel?

  If her “father” was the one who’d kidnapped her, all of those years ago, then he was responsible for Dmitri’s parent’s misery. Otets’ ghost demanded the truth. So he directed his question to the man who was only now pulling himself to his feet beside Zelle:

  “Are you John Gothel?”

  Papa—because surely he was still her Papa, right?—slowly stood up, her hand dropping from him, and met Mother’s eyes over Zelle’s head. And then turned away. She leaned against Mother, twisting her own fingers through each other, and tried to make sense of the revelations of the past few minutes.

  She’d known that Mother was actually her stepmother, she’d always known that, to explain why they looked so differently. But to find out that Papa hadn’t actually sired her? …Did it matter? He’d loved her, and cared for her, in his infuriatingly protective way, for all of her life. That made him her Papa, as far as she was concerned.

  And just because she’d been abandoned as a child and raised by two people who weren’t her real parents, just because she happened to have a strange name that sounded a bit like this princess’, just because Papa had called her his little Princess her entire life, didn’t mean she was.

  But now? John Gothel was a p
etty crook. She remembered Dmitri’s description. How could he possibly think that her good and kind father—he was the town doctor, for heaven’s sakes!—could be a crook? A kidnapper? Her father, who’d done everything in the world to protect her and keep her happy, for as long as she could remember?

  No. She’d known Papa her whole life. He was a good man. This man, this imperious stranger who stood in their living room, whose shoulders were thrown back arrogantly and his hands clasped behind his back… How could she have thought that she loved him? He was here in Everland to ruin her life.

  And briefly, Dmitri met her eyes. She’d expected to see triumph there, knowing that he was completing his father’s quest…but instead she just saw pain. But she couldn’t let herself be distracted by how utterly touchable his jaw looked, clenched like that, or how much she wanted to place her palm against his cheek and will his pain away. No, for now, her parents needed her support, and this moment was most definitely them against him. He should be ashamed of what he was doing.

  With what might have been a sigh, Dmitri turned from her, turned from them all. “My story isn’t complete.” A deep breath, and she definitely did not notice how his chest expanded to fill his jacket, before he began to pace. “My father’s detectives found proof of Lady Sophia’s death, under suspicious circumstances. Her lady’s maid, a servant who’d come from England with her, was the prime suspect, but the maid had disappeared. Along with all traces of the daughter.” Mother’s arms tightened around Zelle’s shoulders, and she let herself sink into the embrace.

  She didn’t want to hear this. Didn’t want to hear any more of this. But oh no, it wasn’t over.

  “I reviewed the detectives’ notes when I arrived in New York, and even met with them, but the ‘trail’—as they called it—had gone cold. So I went to the places they hadn’t looked.” Dmitri halted, his back to them, staring at the lace curtains she’d made so long ago. His hands were locked behind him, in almost-military precision, and she could see the tension in his grip. Was it possible that he was uncomfortable with this task of tearing apart everything she knew?

  “I went to the alleys, to the underworld. To the criminals and the lawbreakers.” He took a deep breath. “I found word of a sale. From a woman who spoke with a British accent, to a man named only ‘Witcher’.”

  “Oh, thank God.” Her mother’s fervent exhalation was a mere whisper, but Zelle turned to ask what could possibly be worth thanking Him about at a time like this. Mother’s forced smile was watery as she explained, under her breath. “We thought your mother had been the one to sell you, all these years. That’s what he told us.”

  Zelle’s eyes widened, and she hissed back: “Who told you? You knew about this?”

  But Mother didn’t have a chance to reply before Dmitri began to speak again, and instead she just shook her head and pursed her lips. “The British maid, who I never found more record of, sold the little princess to Witcher, a big man in the New York crime world. A boss, if you will. Witcher had plans to re-sell the girl, to…” He took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for a unleasant task, but then turned his head just far enough for Zelle to see his magnificent profile. “Well, it doesn’t matter.” There was more there, but Zelle was suddenly completely sure that she didn’t want to know it.

  “But before Witcher could complete his plans, the girl disappeared, kidnapped by a man named John Gothel. The men I spoke with weren’t sure what Gothel’s plan was, taking the princess west, but they remembered Witcher’s intense rage when he found out. This Witcher apparently began his search, sending men and money west to look for Gothel, the man who betrayed him. And when he got word that Gothel had come to Everland, he followed. That’s the last anyone in New York heard from either of them.”

  Dmitri turned on his heel, then, to face them. Zelle hated the way he looked, all cold and hard, but there was something there in his pale blue eyes, when they flicked towards her for a moment, that told her he wasn’t quite a stranger. Just mostly.

  “Sir, when I asked you about Witcher and Gothel, you denied all knowledge.” Papa was facing the mantel again, one arm braced against it as if he couldn’t support his own weight. “But now I ask you, in front of your wife and the woman you’ve raised as your daughter: Are you John Gothel?”

  Papa’s fingers curled around the mantel, and Mother slowly sat up. Zelle felt like she was losing her support, but knew, knew that Papa needed his wife at that moment.

  “I used to be.”

  “Oh, Jack.” Mother’s pity was barely a moan, but she stood in a swirl of skirts and crossed to him. Zelle watched Mother place her hand on Papa’s back, watched him lean into his wife’s touch, and knew that she’d never have that simple love and support the two shared.

  Not now that she’d lost Dmitri.

  …Who inhaled sharply to hear Papa’s confession. A confession which, this far into this tangled web, hardly mattered. But still, she would hear the rest of it.

  “If you’re this Mr. Gothel, Papa, how did I end up here?” Her voice was raw with emotion, and Dmitri turned at the sound. But he didn’t look triumphant; no, he looked…sad. Pitying, almost.

  Papa took a deep breath. “I worked for Witcher. In New York.”

  “You were a criminal.” Dmitri’s tone was dry, as if he was just confirming rather than asking.

  But Papa didn’t respond. Instead, his jaw clenched as he stared at the tall young man across the room. She didn’t know what either of them were thinking, but the air between them was charged with tension. Finally, Dmitri exhaled, and nodded slightly. “On my honor, none of this will leave this room.”

  Papa seemed to thaw, and she watched him look away, meeting Mother’s eyes. The two of them gripped hands, fingers entwined, as if desperate for the support. Taking a deep breath, still looking deeply into his wife’s eyes, Papa said, “Yes, I was a criminal. The worst kind.”

  Zelle gasped, and Mother’s eyes filled with tears, but Papa continued. “I was in charge of getting Zelle to...well, it doesn’t matter. I saw her, and knew that I couldn’t let Witcher hurt her any more. She was…” He turned then, and Zelle might’ve been able to maintain her calm façade, if not for the tears she saw in his eyes when he met hers. “She was so perfect, so good, I knew that I couldn’t let him have her.” Mother’s hand slipped into his, and he gripped it fiercely. “I took her, and came west, running from Witcher. That’s when I ceased to be John Gothel, and became Jack Carpenter. Gothel is dead.”

  “So you weren’t trying to kidnap her from him?”

  “Hell yes, I was trying to kidnap her from him. The man shouldn’t have been left in charge of a dog.” Papa’s voice dropped to a mumble. “I should know.”

  “And Witcher? He came after you two?”

  Papa slipped his arm around Mother then, and she laid her head on his shoulder. These were her parents. She knew them. She’d seen this love every day that she could remember, seen their steadfast loyalty and their support, and known that she wanted the same when she found a man. Oh yes, they might be revealing secrets she couldn’t imagine, but they were still her parents.

  “Meri married me, and made me realize that we had to stop running. We had to make a good home for Zelle. Witcher found us in the spring, and told us that she was royalty, but her family was dead. So we knew that we could keep her, that no one was looking for her.” Zelle took a deep, shuddering breath at the same time as her father. It was surreal to think that he was talking about her, as a child. “Besides, she was our Princess by then. I wasn’t going to let her go, not to him, not to anyone.”

  “I understand.” Dmitri inclined his head once more, and Zelle had to look down at her fingers, twined in her lap. Why did he still twist her heart with his nobility? Why did he still make her think impossible thoughts? “And as the son of her godparents, I should thank you for keeping her safe all of these years. But my honor, and my father’s honor, demands satisfaction. I would know where Witcher went.”

  The forma
lity of the words sent a shiver through Zelle, like she was watching a duel being played out. A duel where Dmitri was one combatant, and who was the other? “Why?” She blurted out the question, and then winced when everyone’s attention shifted to her.

  The smile on Dmitri’s lips was nothing like the one she’d fallen in love with. This one was cruel and twisted, and made her recoil. “So that I can kill him.”

  “There’s no need.” Her father’s low declaration gained Dmitri’s attention, and the two men met each other’s eyes. “I killed him.”

  Zelle’s gasp was loud enough to fill the room, but Mother hurried to override it. “You did not, Jack. I did.”

  Mother? “Mother?” She had the right to be shocked. Her parents were doctors. They’d never hurt another soul in their lives. They helped people!

  But Papa just shook his head, his lips half-curled on one side. “Meri didn’t kill him, not really.” Mother jabbed him in the side. “He came here, and we fought to protect Zelle, and there was an accident, and he died.”

  “You are sure?” Did Dmitri sound eager, or disappointed?

  “I’m sure.” Papa squeezed Mother. “We buried him in the woods behind our old cabin.” She remembered that cabin, outside of Everland. She remembered those woods. Oh gosh, she remembered playing in those woods as a child!

  There was a long moment where no one spoke or moved. Zelle, for her part, was still trying to come to terms with everything that had been revealed in the last hour. To think that her worst worry for the evening had been if Papa could be civilized to Dmitri! But now, her parents weren’t really her parents, they’d killed a man to protect her—no wonder they were so obsessively over-protective!—and she was a princess? A princess? This sort of thing did not happen in real life, she was sure. Oh gosh, she was so overwrought she was thinking in italics, and that was a sure sign that her mental state was fragile.

  A click, as Dmitri’s heels came together, and he bowed, low and formally. “If Witcher is dead at your hand, sir, then justice has been served. You have avenged my parents’ honor, and I can return to Russia knowing that their goddaughter, the Princess Wilhelmina Gertrude, is being raised well.”