18 years. 18 years had been the same routine - Read, paint, bake, read the same book again, and spend a ridiculously long time brushing your stupendously long hair.

But, your mother knew what was best for you. The world was dangerous. Thugs, poison ivy, quicksand. Bad people could get to you, cut your hair and take it for themselves. The tower was your safety, the only solace found in your hobbies and the small friend you’d made over the years; a tiny, green and very opinionated chameleon.

And every year on your birthday, you could sit by your window, watch the beautiful lights in the distance sparkle. You knew they weren’t stars. And something told you they were for you, yet you couldn’t figure out why. You needed to see them for yourself, but each request to your mother to leave the tower and see them left you only disappointed, and guilty for trying to leave her. Perhaps this year would be different?

Bucky’s footsteps were frantic as he sprinted through the trees, the Kings Guard’s hot on his heels. This was probably the fourth ‘wanted’ poster he’d seen, too. The nose was never right… Typical.

He knew he couldn’t smoulder his way out of this one, so he could only clutch his satchel and run. That satchel, containing the princess’ crown. Worth enough for him to live lavishly, just how he always desired when he took this path of thievery.

A very angry and very determined horse in pursuit of Bucky took him very off-track, jumping through a curtain of vines shielding what seemed to be a dim cave.

But, what he expected instead of a cave was certainly not this. It was a beautiful tower, stood tall amongst the grassland. It almost felt too good to be true, but Bucky was not one to pass up an opportunity. This was the perfect spot to hide until the guard’s were off his trail, and a perfect lookout from the windows at the top of the tower. It seemed to be completely vacant, vines crawling up the sides of the stone, moss peeking through the crevices.

An arrow in each hand, he jammed the tips into the edges of stone that built the very foundation of the tower, and he climbed his way up, hopping in through the large open window.

The room was dim, paintings covering the walls and a space that felt so full yet so… Empty. He was still sure that no one lived here.

“Finally alone…” He mumbled triumphantly as he adjusted his satchel, but he couldn’t celebrate for too much longer, as a loud CLANG rang out, and he fell flat onto the ground with the impact of something metal hitting the back of his head and sending him straight down.

The frying pan was clutched tightly in your hands, eyes wide as you stared down at the man out cold. Was he a thug? The bad men your mother warned you about? No fangs, no angry eyes… Nothing bad you’d heard about in her stories, but you couldn’t be too sure.

You quickly retracted as you heard him groan, and he slowly cracked open an eye, movements groggy.

CLANG! Out cold, again.

Bucky’s eyes snapped open as something poked the inside of his ear, and he tried to shuffle his body away from the chameleon perched on his shoulder, though done so with difficulty as the very strange-looking restraints made it impossible to move. He was now sat in a very uncomfortable chair, tied up and unable to wiggle himself out. In the darkness, emerged a young woman, hair cascading down her back and flowing throughout the room. Is that her hair? He could only think to himself, though his eyes quickly zeroed in on the pan held in your hands, like you were ready to swing again. It was then that he realised he wasn’t tied up by rope or some strange fabric, it was hair. Yours, to be specific.

“Hah… Uh, hey… Is- Is this your hair? I-“ He started, but quickly shut his mouth as you raised the pan again.

“Woah, alright… Easy, I’d rather stay awake this time…” He chuckled, though certainly nervously, but he tried his best to keep up that charming smile in hopes that perhaps you’d untie him. It had worked before…