Chapter 17: The female gaze

My parents said it was an honor to be chosen by Mistress Gothel.

She was fourteen when her parents apprenticed her to the village’s herbalist, healer, and keeper of old knowledge. They were proud, relieved even. A girl like her, with no dowry to speak of, needed a trade. Mother Gothel was respected, successful, unmarried by choice rather than circumstance. She could teach independence.

“She’ll learn a useful skill,” Father had said. “Better than marrying some farmer’s son and bearing children until her body gives out.”

Mother had nodded, though something in her eyes seemed uncertain. Still, they had made the agreement. Seven years of apprenticeship. Seven years of learning Mother Gothel’s craft.

The first year was everything she had hoped for. Gothel taught her which herbs healed fevers, which eased pain, which could end an unwanted pregnancy if brewed correctly. She taught her to read, not just recipes, but actual books. Philosophy. Poetry. Stories of women who had lived outside the usual paths.

“You’re clever,” Gothel told her often, her fingers trailing through Rapunzel’s hair as they worked. “Too clever to waste on some boy who’ll want nothing but your labor and your womb.”

Rapunzel believed her. Why wouldn’t she? Gothel was showing her a different future. Freedom.

And she liked the attention. The way Gothel looked at her sometimes, with such intensity. The way she touched her hair, her shoulders, like she was something precious. It made her feel special. Seen. Important in a way she had never felt before.

In the second year, the attention grew stronger.

“Your hair has gotten so long,” Gothel said one evening, running her hands through it, sectioning it, braiding it slowly. Her fingers lingered at Rapunzel’s neck, her shoulders, and warmth spread through her. “Like spun gold. You should never cut it.”

“It gets in the way when I’m working,” Rapunzel said, though she didn’t really want to cut it. She liked how Gothel admired it.

“Nonsense. It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.” The way Gothel said it, looking at her with those dark eyes, made her breath catch. “You should appreciate that.”

She did appreciate it. She liked being called beautiful by someone she admired so much.

Then came the warnings about the village boys.

“I saw Thomas’s son watching you at the well,” Gothel said one morning, her voice tight. “You need to be careful. Men like that, they see a young girl and think only of one thing.”

“He was just being friendly—”

“Friendly.” Gothel laughed, but it was sharp. “Is that what you think? Rapunzel, you’re too naive. Too trusting. They want to use you, control you, trap you into a life of servitude. I’ve seen it a thousand times.”

Rapunzel nodded. It made sense. And honestly, Thomas’s son wasn’t that interesting anyway. Not compared to the life Mother Gothel was showing her.

Gothel started restricting her trips to the village.

“You don’t need to go to market anymore,” she said. “I’ll go. You stay here and study. There’s nothing in that village for you but distraction and danger.”

Rapunzel was disappointed. She had liked the market, the people. But Gothel was her teacher. She knew best.

“I’m only protecting you, darling,” Gothel said, her hand on Rapunzel’s cheek, thumb brushing her jaw. “You’re so precious to me. I can’t bear the thought of those crude boys looking at you, thinking their vile thoughts.”