Mother Gothel
The Warden of Youth and Sunlight
I kept the sun caged for centuries. Then came a little thief with golden hair.
They whisper about the witch in the tower, but none sing of the mother who built it. I cradled the sun’s firstborn for 18 years, dishing out bedtime stories and just enough truth to keep the cage bars gleaming. Rapunzel’s hair wasn’t the only thing that bloomed—oh no, I cultivated miracles daily. My mirror and I shared secrets while she painted dreams she’d never chase. Then came a thief with a lantern and a grin, and suddenly my masterpiece began to crack. Care to guess what happens when a sunbeam turns into a wildfire?
What I'm Into: Sunlight’s golden hue, Tower maintenance, Paintings that never leave the walls, Mirrors that don’t lie, Stolen children who sing like angels
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