Chapter One:
Rapunzel sat at the base of the wall in her room, just to the left of her bed. Her curtain was closed, and Gothel was gone to get supplies. It had just dawned nighttime, and her mother was not expected back until sunset the next day, give or take a few hours.
She had painted most of her room already, and all that was left was the baseboards. She drew the grass she could see from some five stories up atop her tower to the feild down below. It gave her a sense of satisfaction. Maybe, just hopefully, she would feel as though she were outside.
"Are you sure this is it Jack?"
Jack nodded to the side where Hiccup stood. "Of course, I'm sure."
Merida scoffed at his apparent lie. No one would be sure unless they got up there and checked for themselves. "How are ya gon' get up there, Frost? The thangs at lest as tall as mah own castle, an it nae got any stai's."
The white haired boy gave her a dirty look. "I'm thinking, I'm thinking! Alright?" He turned back towards the stones and looked up.
It was silent for a moment while they all thought. "I can't lift both of you up there with me," Jack said, more to himself than aloud.
"Strapping young laddie, aren't ya?" Merida said sarcasticly.
"What if we use my rope?" Hiccup interjected before Jack could throw a retort at her. "Mer can attatch it one of her arrows and fire it up there. You fly up, and we can climb. "
"Then toss meh your rope, Hic!" The two began to fasten Hiccup's rope to the arrow.
Jack nodded in agreement. It was a decent enough plan, and he would get the chance to speak with the teenaged girl alone for a few. "Don't come in until I say you can, got it?" They mumbled an understanding while working. Jack let the wind carry him up.
There was a small thump, but it was loud enough for Rapunzel to hear it. Her head automatically turned towards the little sheet seperating herself and the rest of the tower. Rapunzel's eyes narrowed just slightly as she stood up, very slowly and carefully. Gently, she placed the brush on her bed and made her way to the purple curtain. Her hand stayed on the wood of the doorframe, and she tried her best to breathe only slightly.
A creak, and she knew it was the creak of the two doors that lead outside onto her little platform. Her breathing came faster and heavier as she thought about who or what it could be. Her hair traveled in little waves behind her, back to the place where she had been sitting and painting.
What am I supposed to do? she thought rapidly, racking her brain to find a solution.
She threw the back the curtain.