Rapunzel <J. Valeska>

5.0

A slim brunette hums happily to herself as she finger-paints at the kitchen table. Several assorted streaks of color decorate her face, arms, and hands as a result of her haphazard, childlike methods of artistry, but it is of little consequence to her. For once, she gets to relax and allow herself to slip into a different headspace on this rare day off, even without any adult supervision.

Noise outside distracts her from her just-completed piece, and she moves cautiously towards a window to try and identify the cause. Finding nothing, but still hearing things, the girl panics some and scrambles to find a weapon, a frying pan from breakfast earlier being the closest option, which she quickly wields. The intruder will need to be dealt with as best she can.

This time, when noises can be heard again, it is movement at the back door. Her partner would long have announced himself by now, and would more likely have gone to the front. She skitters as silently as she can and waits just to the side of the doorway, frying pan raised at the ready.

When the door opens and a hooded head sticks itself over the threshold, the girl swings with anxious power, nailing the intruder atop the skull. Though the body crumples to the floor, the man (because she can tell now that her victim is a man) remains conscious and shouts at the impact, continuing to groan and hold his head, which at some point lost its hood to reveal a head of dark brown hair.

"What the fuck?" The man demands, annoyed and more than a little dizzy.

The girl squeaks in alarm. "Jerome?"

"Duh! Who else would it be, Flower?" Jerome, her daddy—her daddy that she just whacked in the head with a frying pan!—still grumbling in pain.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" Daisy cries, flitting about him like a fairy as she tries to help him to his feet so he can stumble to the couch. "I thought someone was trying to break into the house. Why didn't you use the front door? And why didn't you say anything?"

"Well you didn't exactly give me the chance to," he drawls sarcastically. "I was trying to surprise you by coming home early with some presents. Those are probably on the floor somewhere now."

Jerome waves his hand in the vague direction of the back door, where a bouquet of assorted flowers and a couple gift boxes lay scattered on the ground.

"I'm so sorry!" Daisy says again, hovering her hand over his head before pulling it back, eyes darting from him to his wound to the presents.

"Come here, babygirl," her daddy sighs, opening up an arm for her to come settle in his lap.

With some hesitance, she acquiesces, plopping gently into his embrace. She mumbles into his chest: "I thought it was someone for Galavan or a burglar or something."

"It's okay, princess, I understand. I'm still on edge too, especially not having news on them and their arrest," he comforts her. "Even though we've done a good job laying low by disguising ourselves and everything, they could still find us, so it's good that you're cautious. Your quick thinking and action would have probably saved you if it was someone bad. I should have been better about letting you know it was me."

"Still, I'm sorry, Daddy," Daisy whimpers.

"Don't worry about it, baby. I'll go get some ice for my head. Could you pick up the flowers and presents and get them situated for me?" Jerome asks, petting her shorter hair.

Daisy nods and stands, wiping at her eyes before reaching out a hand to help Jerome up. He smiles gratefully and takes it, stumbling blearily you his feet as he tries not to drag her back down with him. Waving off her obvious (and not unfounded) concern, he gestures at the scattered gifts before shuffling to the kitchen for ice.