He shouldn't want to see her, but he did. He shouldn’t want to know how she felt, how she tasted, but he did. He shouldn’t want to know what food she liked or what she thought about when she was alone. He shouldn’t want to know what her favorite music was or what she did when she wasn't modeling, if she did anything at all, but he did. He wanted to know everything there was to know about Razel D’Punz; the real Razel. No makeup. No costumes. No lights or camera.
She had never been so affected by the idea of intimacy, but there was something about his eyes; something warm, and gentle even though she felt transparent every time he turned his attention on her; like he could see her, really see her. The idea of being so exposed to someone…it took her breath away.
You've honey on your tongue, ma fifille," Maman once said. "If you'd lived in earlier times, you could have been a troubadour.""...There aren't any troubadours any more, are there, Maman?" Marie said. "And if there were, girls wouldn't be allowed to be one.""Probably not," Maman agreed sadly."I'll be one anyway," I said with determination.Maman smiled and gently pulled on my hair. "I'm sure you will, ma fifille, a clever girl like you. You can do whatever you like in this world if you just have courage enough.
Maybe the witch thought she was protecting Rapunzel, not punishing her. Maybe she thought that if Rapunzel was locked away, no one could ever hurt her. Maybe the witch kept Rapunzel because she loved her, because she was scared that if other people could get to Rapunzel, they would hurt her. And maybe Rapunzel didn't understand the witch; maybe she was angry at her - but maybe she loved her too.