It was a somber, stormy night in the village of Corona. The wind was blowing so strongly, it was as if a giant was crouched down by its shores, exhaling fast, hard breaths directly its way. The rain was falling so ruthlessly, it was as if an angry faucet had opened itself in the skies above.

Somewhere, deep inside the heart of the stone village, a young couple lay devastated in their bedroom. The man's wife, Liesa Rettersonne, had gotten ill only days prior. The couple had known common illness, of course, and of how to remedy themselves for fast recovery. But, given how quickly Liesa was bedridden, rendered completely incapable of mere walks across their small house, it was clear to the both of them that this bug was not one she would escape.

The realization of this could have been somewhat bearable—somewhat survivable—if it wouldn't have been for the innocent child blossoming inside of her belly, awaiting to see this wonderful world for herself.

Liesa's husband, Zacharia, sat still beside her, crouched low on the creaky, wooden floor, her hand wrapped tightly inside of his own. His heartbreak was written well and clear upon his face.

"Two Dark Day's, and both of them in our lifetime." He tried for a laugh, but it came out faint, and half-hearted. "We must be well and truly cursed, if such things exist."

Liesa hummed in agreement, the smallest of smiles finding its way to her paled lips. "We are a special case... you and I. To... bring forth curses."

A bitter feeling clenched at Zacharia's heart. Corona had never seen ill fate in the entirety of its written existence. What had they done to anger the sky so, other than attempt to live their lives in mundane peace?

"My love," Zacharia breathed, just loud enough to hear over the storm roaring beyond stone walls. "Surely there must be something we can do to heal you, to save our child..." His hand moved unconsciously up her arm, where it settled flat over the woman's swollen belly.

With all of the efforts in the world, Liesa reached out to brush a strand of curled, brown hair behind her husband's ear. "Zacharia, I truly wish... there were..." She drew in a tired breath. It rasped painfully in her throat. "I would... do anything for her, for you. To stay by your sides for... all eternity.''

Zacharia nodded solemnly, wetness blooming behind thick lashes. But all of his tears vanished once more when a dangerous idea sparked inside of his mind. Liesa's body tensed at once, as soon as she noticed the change in her husband's demeanour.

Desperation laced Zacharia's words. "I could always fetch one of—"

"No!" Liesa interrupted at once. The sudden rise in her voice sent her spiralling into an unforgiving fit of coughs. Her body ached painfully from the harsh movements, a flare she'd thought could not possibly worsen, and her lungs burned with renewed rawness. She already knew exactly what the man desired to propose.

The rapunzel's that grew inside of their neighbouring yard were the only golden bloom anyone had yet to discovered across the entire stretch of the island. The Rettersonne's themselves were convinced of their power, for they heard Dame Gothel sing to them each week, and saw her when she strolled through the market the following mornings, her aura glistening with an enchantingly unnatural glow. Her skin smooth and youthful as a child's.

If it were anybody else, they could have simply knocked on the door to ask. But never with Dame Gothel.

She'd lived on the island for as long as the couple had both been only babes learning their steps. A six year old girl she'd been, yet no one remembered her birth, or bore any memories of her parents, no less. Liesa had always wondered how horrible the orphanage must have been for Dame to leave it so abruptly only seven years later. After all, the other children appeared to be as happy as she'd ever seen anyone be. Yet Dame had demanded her own home, and had wandered far from all those who'd ever found the courage to attempt joining her seemingly invisible circle of friendship.

Liesa had heard all of the stories about Dame Gothel—had even seen some occur with her own two eyes. Still, she had trouble comprehending how anyone could possess such cruelty inside of their bones.

When she felt well enough to spur on, Liesa tried again. "I... I will be fine... without. You need not... risk a bargain, my love. Please."

But Zacharia would not give up so easily. "Not a bargain, then. I could climb into her yard and take one for myself. She need not know of anything."

All Liesa could do was shake her head no. She could not think of how harsh the consequences would be if he were caught. How doomed they would truly become if they lowered themselves down to something as horrible as theft.

"But let me try," Zacharia pleaded with saddened eyes. They were green as freshly cut grass, and so, so hopeful. "Let me try. It would be easy enough with the storm raging outside."

Somehow, a soft chuckle escaped the sickly woman's lips. "Gothel is as observant... as a hawk. Do you not think she'd notice if... if one of her flower's... were suddenly gone?"

"She'd blame it on the wind," Zacharia argued, only to be met with further disagreement. With a promise that he'd stay safely rooted under the safety of their roof, the broken-hearted man lay his head upon the sliver of mattress next to his wife's waist. He shut his eyes in defeat.

When Liesa's breathing slowed to the rhythm of sleep, the sudden faintness of her breaths nearly stilled Zacharia's heart. They had gotten much worse than before, so much so that a sinking premonition in the pit of his gut made Zacharia certain she would not wake come sunrise.

Zacharia lifted his head and gently unclasped their hands. He walked with light footsteps out of the room, down the stairs, and across the kitchen to the back entrance. With a deep inhale, he stepped out into the ruthless storm, warm wind fighting against his every movement and nearly taking his own breath away. But he loved his wife and unborn child much too strongly to simply let an illness take them both. Especially when he knew he might have been able to save them. Surely, there was a possibility that none of this would work out, that the flowers would be but normal plants. But Zacharia refused to believe that to be so. Dame Gothel was not the type to be so direly protective over an object simply for its mere beauty.

Carefully, Zacharia climbed over the tall fence, not even able to hear the creaking wood beneath his fingers, and dropped down into the neighbouring garden. Even through the blinding rain falling in sheets around him, it was easy to spot the golden rapunzel's glowing brightly along the edge of the house. Usually, they grew several shades of purple, and pink. Now, they seemed almost alive. Shimmering.

Magical.

With only a second's hesitation, the man rushed forward and fell to his knees beside the plant. He tugged one of the flowers off of its stem, expecting more than an underwhelming nothing to happen.

Moments after, he stood safely in his kitchen, heart racing, flower held carefully between aching fingertips.

After setting a pot of water to boil, petals neatly stirred in, Zacharia hurried to change into a fresh set of dried clothes. When all was done, he climbed back up to his wife's side, no longer bothering to walk lightly. Delicately, he shook the woman awake.

"I made you some tea," he whispered. Liesa, too far gone to think twice of his words, smiled as best she could through sleep-filled eyes. She let her husband tip the warm liquid between her chapped lips.

.·:* *:·.

To the village's relief, there was no sign of yesterday's storm come morning. To the couple's relief, Liesa's condition had also already significantly improved. By noon, she was on her feet, as if by some unbeknownst miracle. Later, even, the smell of sizzling apple pie swirled joyfully through the open windows.

And nearly best of all, there was no sign of Dame Gothel, even after Liesa had realized what Zacharia had done. It stunned him, still, that he had been able to pull such a thing off. In fact, it was only after three days of not seeing Dame Gothel at all that the townsfolk realized she'd vanished completely. And unlike her usual disappearances, this time, she never returned despite the continuously passing weeks.

When their child was finally born into the world, the couple could not have been happier. She was beautiful and healthy, already sporting a short handful of golden blonde hair only a week after her birth. Marta, they'd named her. After Zacharia's aunt.

Nothing could have put a damper on their joy.

Aside from a sudden, angry rasp that sounded at their door one, eerily quiet morning.

Zacharia stilled in his bed, unmoving until it sounded yet again. The second rasp awoke Liesa as well. It was only until the third that they made their way downstairs, a pit nestled in their stomachs. When Zacharia opened the door, it was to his utter horror that he saw a familiar, raven-haired woman appear before them. The cruel smirk plastered across her lips spiked the couple's blood even more than the mere sight of her did.

"You stole my flower." Dame Gothel said simply.

Liesa's soft green eyes spun toward her husband's, equally alarmed as he. There was no chance neither of them could explain away her miraculous recovery without mention of the flower's use. And regardless of whether they could, it was obvious that Dame Gothel already knew the truth for what it was.

Zacharia fell hard to his knees and plead.

"Please," he begged, "it was only to save my family! I'm sorry! Punish me, if you must, but please spare them for their innocence!"

Dame's lips curled further up as she set a hand cooly on her hip. It seemed as though his words had been exactly what she'd hoped they would be. "All right, all right," she mused. "You've convinced me." Relief flooded through both Zacharia and Liesa. But Dame was not yet finished speaking. "How about we spark a deal? Or... a trade, might I say. For my precious flower you stole."

"Yes," Zacharia said immediately, despite the uncertainty growing within him. "What is it you want?"

"Your child."

When she did not laugh off her demand, the couple burst into tears.

"No," Zacharia cried. "A child is no fair trade for a flower!" But Dame offered no alternative, other than the threat of a long and merciless death to the both of them.

But the couple would not give. Marta's life would not be handed away so easily, despite the horrible crime Zacharia had committed. They would give Dame their home, if she desired it, and all of the coin they possessed, but never their child.

A dangerous light glimmered in Dame's eyes at their continued refusal. With a bitten, "Very well," she spun on her heels and walked away. But the tension in the Rettersonne's spines did not ease once throughout the remainder of their day. Not for the next, either.

In fact, it never truly did. Even long after they'd awoken the third morning to find their precious Marta gone.

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I'm currently working on re-posting this entire story, meaning you're currently reading draft 2! I won't be doing any more huge re-writes after this, so don't worry! It's only in preparation for TAINTED, the sequel and finale to this fanfiction.

As I'm still writing, however, and am getting ready for a huge move, updates will only come every 2 weeks. I look forward to hearing your feedback! Thank you so much for reading. <3

*Edited (December 4th, 2019).