Chapter Text
“Okay… how do I use you?”
Rapunzel stood in front of the mirror, the cape in her hands.
The cape.
The one Zhan Tiri had used to take on Calliope’s appearance. The one Cassandra had used to disguise herself as Faith… before losing it right in the middle of the marketplace.
And after that, everything had spiraled.
Everyone panicked. The Obsidian Project malfunctioned, and fired straight at her.
Thankfully, Cassandra managed to break free. She used that strange little vial, and Rapunzel had felt… dizzy.
And then…
Cassandra ran.
Back to the tower. Back to being grumpy. Like nothing had happened.
Even though they had been this close to fixing things.
All because of a stupid misunderstanding.
That was enough.
Rapunzel wasn’t going to just stand there and let her keep acting like a grumpy bear. It was always the same: the moment she thought she saw an opening, something would happen… and Cassandra would go right back to her “friend.”
Zhan Tiri.
Seriously.
Zhan Tiri? As a friend?
What does she have in her head? Like, melted cheese or something?
Not this time.
This time, Rapunzel had a plan.
A diabolical plan.
She was going to take on Zhan Tiri’s appearance. Get close. Very close. Figure out what was going on inside Cassandra’s head.
And ideally… make her realize that her “friend” was actually a multi-millennia-old demon with one very specific hobby: destroying Corona.
She examined the cape more closely.
A small tag hung from the collar.
“Shapeshift into the person you want to look like.”
…
“Okay.”
That sounded simple enough.
She slipped the cape on, adjusted the hood, and looked down.
Her clothes had changed.
Leather. Linen. Dark tones. Practical.
…
Rapunzel blinked. That felt… oddly familiar.
And not at all “ancient terrifying demon.” Or “small British girl.”
She looked back up at the mirror.
Cassandra was staring back at her. Hazel eyes. Slightly surprised expression.
Rapunzel jumped and spun around.
No one.
“… Oh.”
She turned back slowly, taking a closer look at her reflection.
“I look cool.”
She stayed like that for a moment. Then shook her head and pulled the hood off.
No. No, no, no. This was not the plan!
She took a deep breath. Focus.
She pictured exactly who she wanted to look like right now : Zhan Tiri.
She pulled the hood back up.
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The problem with diabolical plans was that they required a dramatic entrance.
The problem with dramatic entrances was that you had to know where to enter.
Rapunzel stood at the base of Cassandra's black rocks tower. Very focused. Very upright. Well… as upright as this much smaller body would allow.
This wasn’t just a disguise. The cape had actually made her shorter.
It was hard not to walk a little stiffly, caught somewhere between forced dignity and steps that were just slightly too quick.
No wonder Zhan Tiri was always so angry. When you were that small, it was probably hard not to be.
She needed to get inside. Now.
And since Cassandra hadn’t exactly provided a clearly marked entrance with a welcoming doormat, she was going to have to improvise.
She needed to think like Zhan Tiri.
She placed her hands against the dark stone, concentrating very hard on the destruction of Corona.
The stone didn’t move.
“Open sesame,” she tried.
The stone didn’t move.
“Ohhh-pen, seh-sah-me,” she tried again, with what she was fairly certain was a very British accent.
The stone didn’t move.
Okay.
She was officially out of evil ideas.
As long as Cassandra wasn’t around, she could think like Rapunzel, right?
…
She pulled the hood off, returning to her normal height—and, more importantly, her normal hair.
She took a breath.
“Power of the Sun. Gift me with your light…”
Moments later, a several-foot-wide hole had appeared at the base of the tower.
Rapunzel looked at it. And nodded, satisfied.
Cassandra probably wouldn’t notice. Zhan Tiri probably did this all the time to get in, anyway.
She grimaced as she spotted the dark staircase.
She’d climbed it once before, and it had already been unpleasant.
Climbing it again was bad enough.
Climbing it at Zhan Tiri’s height? Discouraging.
But not putting the hood back on inside would be too risky.
She was willing to make that sacrifice. For Cassandra. Even if it meant awkwardly shuffling the entire way up.
She placed one foot on the first step. Then another.
Very focused.
Very dignified.
Very not stable at all.
“Honestly,” she muttered, climbing another step, “Cassandra should really reconsider the accessibility of this tower.”
One more step.
“For her guests.”
Another step. She wobbled, then recovered immediately.
“And especially her evil partners.”