“I can’t believe you’re taking Gothel’s side, Hazel! You both make me sick!” Primrose stormed off, leaving Hazel and Gothel on the balcony.
“Prim, please stay! Come back!” Gothel was heartbroken. She felt she had somehow ruined everything. And she wondered if she would ever have Primrose’s love again.
“Don’t worry, Gothel. I think she’ll feel differently tomorrow. She just needs time to think it over. You know how she is. Her anger burns bright but it also dies quickly. You know she can’t stay mad at either of us for very long.” Gothel knew Hazel was right, but there was something inside her that told her she might have lost Primrose for good.
“Thank you for supporting me, Hazel. Thank you for trusting me. I knew you would understand why I am doing this.”
Hazel seemed to be thinking it over before responding. Finally, she said, “I think I understand. We have to do it because it’s our obligation.”
“It’s our obligation and birthright! I’ve spent so many years upset with Mother because I thought she was selfishly keeping her magic from us. I was ready to leave this place for fear of languishing here forever with nothing to do but wander these woods, but don’t you see? If she wants to share her blood with me now, that means she is getting ready to go into the mists. It means she is ready to move on and wants us to have her knowledge before she goes.”
“Gothel, are you doing this to protect us, like you said, or are you doing it for the power?”
Gothel watched her sister walk out of the room before responding quietly, “Oh, Hazel, what would you think of me if I said I was doing it for both reasons?”
Gothel’s room was filled with the hazy grayish-blue light that always accompanied sunrise in the dead woods. Gothel pulled her red velvet duvet up around her chin, feeling a slight chill. She was reluctant to greet the day and face her sister Primrose, but when she focused and really looked about, she realized she probably shouldn’t be so worried. Her room was filled with red paper hearts, hung from the four posts of her bed and strung from the beams on her ceiling. She reached up and pulled one of the hearts from her four-poster and read it aloud.
“‘Together forever.’” Gothel sighed, hoping it meant her sister wasn’t angry with her anymore.
She stood in her room, just looking at the gray stone walls and the magnificent view of the woods from her window, realizing how much she really loved that house. For all her talk of leaving the dead woods, she realized in that moment she didn’t really want to. She loved her home, even if it was cold and drafty and made of dreary cobblestone. Even if it was barren and uninspiring and covered in monstrous carvings of night creatures. It was her home, and it was where she had lived her entire life. She wouldn’t know how to live in the outside world. What she had always wanted was to learn her mother’s magic and to live forever with her sisters. And now it seemed her dream would finally come true. But if Primrose was going to make Gothel choose between her and Mother’s magic, then the choice was simple. She would pick her sisters. And if her mother disowned her for changing her mind, then she would leave with her sisters and learn how to live in the world without magic.
As long as she had her sisters with her, she would be happy.
Sisters. Together. Forever.
There was a light knock at the door.
“Come in!” called Gothel.
It was Primrose. She was already dressed in her finest green gown, and she was holding a tarnished silver tray with two cups of tea and a pile of blueberry scones on it. “Thank you for the wishes, Prim. I love them,” said Gothel, smiling at her sister.
“I have hazelnut tea, your favorite,” said Primrose, smiling back at Gothel and setting the tray on the little round table beside the bed.
“Thank you,” said Gothel.
Primrose sat on Gothel’s bed, patting it with her small hand. “Gothel, please sit with me. I’ve thought about it, and I’ve decided I’m going to take Mother’s blood with you and Hazel.”
Gothel’s eyes grew wide. “Really?”
“Yes. Someone will have to keep you in check, Gothel, and it might as well be me.”
Gothel wrapped her arms around her sister. “Are you sure? Are you really sure? Because this is a big deal, Prim!”
“I know. But you and Hazel were right, of course. I’ve always known the stories. Ever since we were little, we’ve known who our mother is. But I think somehow, oh, I don’t know, I think I managed to turn it into some sort of…”
“Fairy tale?”
“Yes.”
“I understand.”
“I’ve never seen Mother use her magic like that before. Somehow, I was able to tell myself the stories, and our history, weren’t real.”
“I understand, Prim. But can I say I think I’m worried about her? Something within her has changed. Something isn’t quite right.”
“I wish you and Hazel wouldn’t fret over Mother so much, Gothel. She will be with us for at least another hundred years.”
“I hope so. It could take that long to teach us everything she knows.”
Primrose stood up from the bed, went to Gothel’s closet, and pulled out a dark burgundy velvet dress and a black velvet cloak. “Here! I think you should wear this! Hazel is wearing her silver. You won’t want to be the only sister who isn’t dressed for the occasion.”
“What occasion is that?”
“Mother’s ceremony, silly! I’ve already told her we are all taking the blood this evening at sunset. She’s in the conservatory now, making preparations!”
“Do you think she will actually let us in there?”
“Maybe…in another fifty years!” said Primrose, laughing. “You know how Mother is. Do you have any idea what’s in there?”
“I think it’s rapunzel.”
“Who?”
“It’s a flower. The only thing that grows in these woods lives in that conservatory.”
“How do you know all of this?” asked Primrose.
“I’ve been reading Mother’s journals for years. The flower has been in our family for generations. It will be part of our responsibility to keep it alive after Mother is gone.”
“You’re so weird, Gothel.”
Gothel flinched. “Weird? Why?”
“Nothing! Never mind. I love you.”
“Are you sure you want to do this? You’re not just doing it for me, are you?” asked Gothel, afraid Primrose would change her mind.
“Stop worrying, Gothel. I’m doing this so we can always be together. Just make me one promise: when you’re queen of the dead, you won’t ever kill the children of the villagers.”
“I promise.”
“Together forever, right?”
“Together forever.”
The stone path leading to the conservatory where Gothel’s mother spent most of her time was flanked with dead weeping willows that quivered in the wind, making eerie patterns of light on the pathway. Gothel walked alone, taking in her surroundings. She loved the statues of weeping angels along the path, some of them peeking from behind the trees, others so old they were crumbling, with their faces chipped away by time. There was one Gothel loved most. Her favorite angel. She was made of black marble and covered in dried moss. The angel’s face was covered with her hands. Gothel imagined the angel was weeping for all the dead that slumbered in their woods. Crying for an eternity. And somehow that made Gothel feel better. She wouldn’t ever need to cry for the dead; the angel would cry for her.
The angel would cry forever.
Gothel wondered how many women before her had walked the path to the conservatory, contemplating the angels. She wasn’t entirely sure why she was going to the conservatory other than she knew her mother was there and some inexplicable force was leading Gothel to her mother.
The conservatory was a beautiful building constructed of paned glass, like a giant greenhouse but architecturally much more stunning. It was a large structure that could be seen from the mansion, resembling a glittering jewel in the o
therwise stark landscape. As Gothel got closer to the conservatory, she wondered what she was doing there. She had never bothered her mother while she was doing her magic, not once. She’d never even asked to be let in the conservatory, but she felt different that day; somehow, she felt more powerful and brave knowing later she would be gaining some of her mother’s powers. Something about that day was different.
“Something about today is different, my pet,” said her mother, standing in the doorway of the conservatory.
“Mother! I didn’t see you standing there.”
“Would you like to come inside, Gothel?”
“Umm…sure,” said Gothel, walking tentatively to join her mother.
“Don’t be nervous, my sweet. One day this will be your place of power.” She smiled at Gothel, reached out her hand, and said, “Come inside.”
The building was filled with a blinding golden light, brighter than the sun, brighter than anything Gothel had ever seen. She wondered how she hadn’t seen the light from outside the building.
“Magic, my dear!” said Manea with a laugh.
Gothel was dazzled by the brilliance of the flowers, too awestruck to reply to her mother. She couldn’t guess how many flowers were in the room. Her mother had placed them around the circumference of the conservatory on many rows of tiered benches, resembling seats in an amphitheater. The entire room was filled with the flowers, except the very center, which had some magical markings painted on the floor and a small wooden table with some of her mother’s magical items on it.
The light of the rapunzel flowers was glowing more brightly than the lights coming from the numerous lanterns her mother had hung on large wrought-iron hooks around the room. The sight of it almost took her breath away.
“This is your real inheritance, Gothel. This is our legacy,” said Manea, her arms outstretched.
“The rapunzel?” asked Gothel in a small voice.
“Yes, my intelligent beast. After I’m gone, it will be your job to protect it! This is paramount, my blackhearted child. If you intend to live as many lifetimes as I have, then you will have to protect the rapunzel, if for no other reason than to ensure you and your sisters will always be safe from the indignity of old age.”
“I understand.”
“I think you do, my dear.” Manea paused, then continued. “There’s something I want to tell you, something you can’t share with your sisters. They wouldn’t understand. Remember when I said that hurting you would be like hurting myself?”
“I do.”
“Did you wonder what I meant by that?”
Gothel looked into her mother’s eyes, searching for the answer, and then she realized she had always known. She had felt it since she was very young, but never had the proper words until that moment.
“Because I am you. I don’t know how, but I can feel it.”
“You’ve always been the smart one, my sweet. Always so sensible. You know I love your sisters, but you’re truly mine, Gothel. You’re my favorite,” said Manea, giving her daughter a rare smile.
“Really? Is that true?” asked Gothel, wondering if her mother was being honest with her.
“What makes you doubt it?”
“Our names,” said Gothel in a small voice.
Manea laughed. “Because you don’t have a flower name? You think that makes you any less precious to me? It makes you unique, Gothel. It makes you special. Now go. I have much to prepare before our ceremony later tonight.”
“Mother, you’re not planning to go into the mists anytime soon, are you?”
“No, dear. I have a lot to teach you before I do. Does that disappoint you?”
“No. Not at all!”
“Good! Now go! I have a lot of work to do.”
Gothel was quietly reading a book in the library while her sisters sat nearby, fidgeting nervously. There was a large fire blazing in the stone fireplace flanked by enormous skull statues that supported the stone mantel. The light from the flames was dancing on the numerous leather-bound books that filled the wall-to-wall bookshelves dominating the room. That was Gothel’s favorite place in the world; she always felt at peace there. So many books to read and worlds to escape into, so much history to learn. No matter what was happening, no matter how distressing it was, all she had to do was go to the library and all would be well in her world. That evening was different. She couldn’t distract herself from what was happening in just a few short hours. That night everything was going to change.
“You’re nervous,” said Primrose, curled up in a black leather chair across the room. Gothel thought it was interesting that Primrose always chose that chair: the one with the carving of an old tree filled with ravens on the wall behind it. There were many carvings like that around their mansion, but that tree was a little different from all the others; there were blooms, almost too small to see, just little sprouts, bursting from the branches, and Gothel wondered if her sister had even noticed. It was so like Primrose to be surrounded by life, and by color. She wondered how her poor sister had found herself in such a dreary place. It was as if she had been brought there from another world. Now, her sister Hazel looked like she belonged there. She looked as though all the color had been leached from her. She looked like a ghost, sitting in her chair near the fireplace, the light dancing off the carvings of winged griffons behind her.
“Am I nervous?” asked Gothel, surprised.
“Well, I know I am!” said Primrose.
“Honestly, I’m not sure how I’m feeling. Excited, maybe? I don’t know.” Gothel stood up. “Oh, my goodness! Think about it, Prim! In a few hours, after we take Mother’s blood, we’re going to be able to hear each other’s thoughts, like all the time!”
“Yeah, I don’t think I’m as excited about that as you are, Gothel,” said Primrose, rolling her eyes.
“Why?” asked Gothel.
“Oh, I don’t know, Gothel, maybe it has something to do with never having privacy ever again!”
Hazel interjected. “Primrose, you won’t have to share what you’re thinking all the time. It would be maddening to hear each other’s thoughts constantly.” Hazel glanced at Gothel, who was giving her a look like she was surprised Hazel knew what she was talking about. “You’re not the only one who reads Mother’s books, you know, Gothel.”
Gothel smiled. “How should we spend our last moments as our current selves?”
“Gothel, you’re so weird! Seriously, what are you talking about?” asked Primrose.
“Our lives are going to change forever today, Prim!” said Gothel. She seemed almost giddy, and it was annoying Primrose.
“That’s true,” said Primrose with an odd look on her face that her sisters couldn’t quite read.
“What’s wrong? What’s that face you’re making? Did you change your mind?” asked Gothel.
“She didn’t change her mind, Gothel. Calm down,” said Hazel. She turned to Primrose. “And you stop teasing Gothel! She isn’t weird. She’s right. We will be different people after tonight. Different versions of ourselves. It’s not a strange question. How should we spend our last evening together before we start our schooling with Mother?”
“I don’t know about you two, but I’m going to spend it alone!” said Primrose, standing up in a huff and storming out of the room.
“Primrose! What’s wrong?” called Gothel as Primrose slammed the door behind her. “What just happened? What did I say?” Gothel was confused and hurt.
Hazel shook her head. “You didn’t say anything. Prim is just being her dramatic self. Her life isn’t going the way she planned and she’s sulking.”
“What do you mean?”
Hazel smiled at her sister. “You know Primrose. She just wants to have fun. She’d be content to spend the rest of our days wandering the woods and hanging her hearts in the trees as long as she has us, and that’s all changing. We’re going to be spending all our time with Mother, learning how to take her place. It won’t be the three of us together the way she ima
gined, and that frightens her. I think she already misses us.”
“But we’re here! We’re all here! And when we take Mother’s blood, we will all be more powerful. We will be able to do magic, not just feel each other’s emotions. We will be able to do real magic!” said Gothel.
“I know and I’m really excited about it. But I think Primrose agreed to do this only because she knows how important it is to both of us.”
“Is it really important to you?”
“It is, Gothel! I see us many years from now, witches together learning our craft, studying into the night, practicing our spells, maybe even meeting other witches, but that isn’t Primrose’s sort of thing. She’s afraid of how all of this is going to change our relationships. She’s afraid of losing us to magic.”
“But she can join us!”
“It isn’t her thing, Gothel. I think we should consider letting her leave the dead woods.”
“No!”
“Gothel, you realize she will leave eventually. If she stays here, she will be living the life you dreaded. Languishing forever with nothing to do! That’s exactly what you were afraid your life would become. Do you want that for her?”
“But she does have something to do! She can learn magic with us!”
“Gothel! Stop. Listen to me. She doesn’t want to do magic. She’s afraid of it! I think she needs to be in the real world. I can feel it. I know she doesn’t see herself here forever.” Hazel sighed. “Gothel, do you remember when we were small, how we would all run around the city of the dead, knocking on the crypts?”
“I do. Yes. It was our favorite game. We played it all the time. Primrose loved that game.”
“She loved it until the day Jacob answered her knock and scared the Hades out of her. It was the next day she started hanging her ribbons and hearts. Don’t you see? She’s trying to make our woods into a beautiful place, because it frightens her. She doesn’t belong here.”
Gothel sighed. “But it’s already a beautiful place.”
“Primrose doesn’t think so,” said Hazel with a sad smile.
“Well, I would never make her stay if she really wanted to go, Hazel. Of course, if she wants to leave, we should let her, but not while Mother is still alive. She would never allow it. Do you know what it means for a witch of our blood to leave the dead woods? They can never return. We will have to wipe her memory of this place and of us.”
Mother Knows Best: A Tale of the Old Witch Page 3