The moon, cradled in a down of gray-washed clouds, cast an eerie white glaze over the fresh blanket of snow that had settled over the forest. The low moan of the winter wind rattled the leafless branches of arching trees overshadowing the tower clearing as a single speckled fawn pawed for grass beneath the frigid sheet. The lifeless tower, sides packed with snowdrifts and ornate windows spun over with frosted cobwebs, had truly been forgotten. A hideous overgrowth of wilted vines constricted the structure, dead weeds having sprung from between its weathered stonework.

The fawn shaved away at the layers of snow, before its hoof grazed the tethered remnants of a black velvet cloak covering the brown grass underneath. Using its teeth to tug at the tatters, the fawn grunted as a hand, nearly as pale as the snow and coated in a golden dew, grabbed at one of its forelegs, twisted wine-red nails digging into the animal's ankle. It squealed, frantically heaving backwards to rattle itself free.

A pair of slate blue eyes blinked away the snow, as an emaciated woman dressed in a waterlogged, discolored scarlet dress sat bolt upright, sputtering snow as though she had been drowning. She blew a few curls of jet black hair from her face, releasing the fawn and brushed the back of her hand against her frozen cheeks. The woman broke the surface of the snow with her knee, groaning as she gathered up the remains of her cloak with a shocked look on her face, "I- I, I'm alive?" She touched her cheek again, massaging it softly with her sharp fingertips, "I'm alive!" A nearly inaudible, wheezing cackle erupted from the pit of her throat, as she licked her lips in pleasant surprise.

"B- but how?" As she wobbled to a stand, extending a hand to rest against the side of the tower for support, her bare feet were curled in a pool of dimly glittering gold that, upon closer inspection, had gathered at the foot of the tower from cracks in its foundation. She squatted, gazing into her fair, young reflection with bewilderment; she tossed her hair as a satisfied smirk overcame her dry lips, "Rapunzel's tears," she lifted her gaze to the highest window, shutters having been cast open by the torrid gale of the recent blizzard, "they must have leaked through the floorboards when she was healing that... Flynn- Flynn!" She touched the side of her head with a sudden scowl, "you may have stolen my life once, but I'm back... and I would so like my pretty flower back," she curled her fists, "oh Rapunzel, mummy's coming for you!" She pulled the hood down over her eyes, barring her teeth,

"flower, gleam and glow

let your power shine

Make the clock reverse,

bring back what once was mine-"

The liquid in her hands began to glow, softening and warming her chilled body as she bit her bottom lip, a short breath escaping in a puff of steam from between her lips as the tears ran through her fingers, rich color rushing back into her complexion. "Much better," she turned her head back to the still-rippling puddle that she had woken from, "oh, I am going to need you." She wagged a finger at her precious serum, before ducking under the icicle-ridden, uncovered passageway at the base of the tower.

She wrapped what was left of the cloak tighter around her slender form in the freezing darkness, nearly tripping when she stubbed her toe on the leg of an overturned chair as she extended her hands to use the faint glow of the tears as a torch, "now... where did I put-" the woman kneeled before a fine wooden dresser, pulling open the bottom drawer, "ah! there you are," she produced a sinister, blood-stained iron dagger and a palm-sized glass phial, blowing the dust off as the light began to fade, swallowing her back up into a silent pitch blackness.

"Ugh," her fingers were nearly dry. "Matches, matches-" she eased up against the wall, outstretching her hands to feel around on the nearby table after having secured the dagger and phial in a pocket on the inside of her cloak. Her fingers clumsily grabbed the waxen rod of a candle, and she could feel a few spare matches pressing into the underside of her wrist. Feeling for the table's rim, she struck a match on the wood, pinching the candle wick between two fingers as she lit it, setting the candle into a brass clutch near the center of the table. Tipping the chair back upright, she took a brief sit, flipping the dagger back and forth in her trembling hands, face hollow and ghastly in the candlelight, the side of her lip twitched as she murmured to herself, "oh, my daughter... simply a phial will not suffice. But she is the princess; she will be well-protected..." she growled, thrusting the blade into the table with frustration, running her free hand through her thick curls of raven hair.

The small flame danced wildly on its wick as a male voice echoed through the creaking frame of the tower, "hello, Gothel. You do not know me, but I believe we could... assist each other," what was once a wild flicker had now taken shape into the fiery representation of a rather tall, finely robed man stroking his chin in thought, nigh-formless fingers dropping a pepper of cinders onto the table.

The woman, taken aback by the great voice being produced by such a tiny figure, leaned in closer, so that her slanted eyes were level with his pupiless, searing pits, "who are you? How do you know my name?"

"Oh, the world has been wicked to us both, hasn't it? Someone whom you cherished very deeply has eluded you, has she not? Left the woman who raised her, loved her, and taught her, to rot in the forest while she lived 'happily ever after.' Does this sound familiar?" His searing lip quivered into a frighteningly kind smirk.

"H- how did you... how did you-" Gothel's nose was nearly touching the flame at this point, brows furrowed with curiosity.

"We share a similar plight, you and I. I was once the man known as Frollo; a man of God... of divine righteousness and purity until she! she seared the purity from my heart. I was but a man, and even the most holy of men... can be, well... tempted by... desire." He was beginning to pace, shimmying down the side of the candle to rest on the rim of the holder, leaving a trail of wet wax and slight burn marks near Gothel's hand, though his scalding form was still attached to the wick, much as a spider dangling from a thread.

"Well, Mister Frollo... as delusional as I must be to speak to my candle, it just proves I need the fresh air. I really must be leaving, as the city is such a trek..." she trailed as the fire dissipated, the cinders carrying on the draft, and as it settled onto the floor in front of the door, it began to push upward into the crude semblance of his former self forged from ash, long, trailing wisps of grey forming his heavy robes, and the burning ember slits of his eyes narrowed further as Gothel began to stand, hand sliding to the handle of her dagger.

"Step aside," Gothel's grip tightened as Frollo's infernal body finally morphed into a far more human image, his black robe puddling at his feet. Unkempt, ashen hair had grown down past his shoulders, and his pupils had grown a rather stale, empty gray, "I am afraid your... cause... intersects with my own. You see, a little birdie told me that my pretty flame, Esmerelda, is traveling to your city to dance. You aid me, and I will be sure to aid you with stealing into the castle and reclaiming your daughter," a superior grin curved up onto his thin lips, "oh, and a tinge of that... delightful serum of yours," he pinched two fingers together.

"Absolutely not. I prefer to work alone; I will find a way without your... assistance. Your price is far too high- I need every drop. I mean, suppose Rapunzel proves too difficult to acquire? There is no benefit in letting...something like you... shorten the span of my eternal youth," Gothel unsheathed the dagger, staying it straight in Frollo's direction, "now step aside. What ever you are- you cannot tempt me." She began to approach him, frustrated and brandishing the weapon furiously.

He caught her wrist as she thrusted towards his heart, twisting it slightly, "now, now, I am your only friend, Miss Gothel. Have we not both seen enough violence in our own deaths, alone? Still your hand and be grateful to me. I respect you, and your ambitions, as we are not so different." He leaned in rather close, so that their noses were nearly touching, and a string of smoke escaped his mouth as he grimaced, "they called me a monster. How I could make blasphemers scream-" he began to twist her wrist a bit more; she winced, biting her lip, yet kept a stern expression against the face of the imposing man who stood before her.

"I could see her... dancing. I prayed and prayed and prayed, but the only God who listened thrived in the very conflagration I was trying to escape, and in the end, I was cast to burn with the very Devil I spent my life... believing I could... resist. Oh, it crawled under my skin; the desire... it killed me once, but I have been reborn a better man." He extended his other hand, brushing her tangled hair with a set of bony fingers, "... the hue of a raven's plumage, just like hers," he pulled back, grinding his teeth to one side, "a truly tantalizing shade."

"Can you promise that you will guarantee me Rapunzel... if I allow you a taste of youth?" Gothel flinched slightly at her own realization that she was falling into trust with a man so much like herself- a deceiver and manipulator.

"I swear upon my immortal soul." Frollo crossed himself, flashing a wicked grin.

"We do not break promises in this tower," she snarled in all seriousness, before pushing past him to exit, exchanging her dagger for the phial.

"Follow me. I know the quickest way to the city." Gothel hesitantly took a step back out in the silence of the winter evening, the ragged cape of her cloak whipping about in the wind, as Frollo trailed close behind, watching with eager eyes as the woman knelt to dip her phial into the remains of the golden puddle. Gothel kissed the cork of the apparatus, seemingly mesmerized by the glistening liquid concealed inside.

"It'll only get colder," the woman mumbled quietly, re-pocketing the phial as the two reached the edge of the clearing, and with some minor reluctance, Gothel stepped over the threshold and into the thick of the woods.

"If you say so," Frollo chuckled, following closely at her heels.