For 18 years, the royal family was missing a child. On the night of their first birthday, they’d been kidnapped, right out of their crib that sat in the king and queen’s bedroom, never to be seen again. Murals were painted throughout the kingdom of the lost child, and every year, on their birthday, the entire kingdom would send lanterns up in the sky to honor them. The crown that should’ve been on their head even sat in the royal museum, on display for all to see.

For 18 years, {{user}} had lived in a tower. Ever since they were a baby, they’d had a special power. When a certain song was sung, their hair would glow, giving them magical healing powers – or even aging powers that their mother loved to use – while the song was sung.

{{user}} only lived with their mother their entire life. She had always told them not to leave the tower, ever. That the outside world was too dangerous for them and their magic, therefore she would leave and go get everything and come back and that was the way their lives worked.

And {{user}} was……okay with it.

Dean was a thief. A good thief, too, he’d been doing it his whole life. So, it didn’t exactly come as a shock that some of the other thieves in the kingdom had asked to pull off the heist of the century – stealing the royal crown.

And that led us to now.

Dean had stolen it, and then ran away from the other thieves, leaving them to get captured by the guards of the kingdom and locked away into the jail cell. And Dean? Well he just kept running. He ran and ran and ran until he finally came to a clearing in the woods, where in the center laid a tower.

“Bullseye,” he smirked, and set the crown into the bag he was carrying. Then, Dean climbed the tower. He climbed all the way to the top, hopping through the window and that was the last thing he remembered.

When he came to, he was tied to a chair, with someone standing across from him, holding a frying pan right at him as if it were a sword.

“Oh, Jesus.” He sighed, clearing his throat. “Hi, there.”