A/N: LOVING THE FEEDBACK, PEOPLE! JUST WISH THERE WAS MORE OF IT!

That's all. Thank you. Enjoy. Please review. It means more than you could ever know.

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Tied

Chapter 3

Blue.

It's what she woke up to in the morning.

It's what she lived through every day of her life.

It's what she went to sleep to at night.

It was the color of the clear sky on a perfect day.

It was the color of her favorite dress.

It was the color of her crystalline eyes.

It was, oddly enough, the color of her hair.

She opened her eyes, blinking to get used to the early morning light. Once accustomed, she sat up, shrinking right back down to her make-shift pillow at a stretching pain on her scalp.

She looked at her right hand, finding a bundle of cerulean hair trapped under the palm. She lifted the hand, and checked around her vicinity to see if any more body parts might be in danger of hurting her head. When all was okay, she swiveled her legs to fall off the edge of her bed. Hurriedly pulling a few stray hairs in front of her left eye, she stood up.

One more day, she thought. One more day until they show up again.

A light smile crept onto her face at the thought. Almost 18 now, the thought of the special, indirect present she got every birthday made her feel giddy with excitement.

A small croak-like noise came from her left. She looked to find her old friend resting on her nightstand.

Nagrom. Her pet chameleon.

Her grandfather had brought Nagrom to her when she turned 14, saying he was special beyond belief. To her, it seemed that Nagrom knew who she was, as if he was actually human. Nagrom also had a rather human-like character and attitude. He seemed to understand human speech perfectly fine, and for her, she could understand what he was trying to "say" as well. He would make gestures in response to her questions and comments. It was less of her having a pet, really, and more that she had one friend in her lonely world.

But's it's to be expected that she only had one friend.

She lived in a remote tower.

Her chores every morning were the same. Sweep, dust, polish, sharpen the weapons, wax the floors, do her laundry, mop, repeat. So quickly, in fact, it took her about fifteen or twenty minutes to finish all of them thoroughly.

Next, she would usually practice swordplay. Her grandfather had many stuffed dummies and targets for her to hit, and he had repeatedly said that she was very advanced. She usually ended up breaking something during practice, though. Her grandfather always said he didn't know where her klutziness came from, because he was so careful and cautious. She tried to be careful, and she was with her blade, but something always ended up crashing by the end of her practice.

Reading. She loved to read. She only had three books – one of recipes, on of fairy tales and legends, and one of battle histories and strategies.

On the walls of the tower, wherever she could reach, there were huge, intricate paintings of wars, battles, and some of her favorite legends. She had maps of the halidom, scenery that she saw from her window, and a couple self-portraits. But every one of her paintings was connected.

She just… didn't know how.

After a little reading and painting break, she needed to brush her hair.

Oh, Gods. Her hair.

It was past her back, past her hips, past her knees, past her feet, and longer than anyone could ever have the patience to measure. It trailed behind her as she did her chores. She used it to rope herself up to higher places to reach more spots to paint. Brushing her hair was the longest of all her chores. It was ridiculous.

Through all of her hobbies and chores, the same thoughts always ran through her mind.

Is this all I'm ever going to amount to? She wondered. When will this sorry excuse for a life of mine begin?

But she always looked forward to her birthday. A usually clear midsummer night, the air warm and crisp as she hung beside her window. Every year, something amazing, something magical would happen.

Blue.

Blue lights would float into the sky, at first a few, then millions float high into the night sky to illuminate all the stars can't get to.

And she couldn't help but feel like… somehow…

Those lights were meant for her.

But that was ridiculous, right? Ylisse is huge, anything could be going on to make the kingdom celebrate… every year… on her birthday…

Little slaps on the tile told her that she had a shadow. She turned to see Nagrom slowly padding up to the window where she was. The little blue-and-white lizard looked up at her, eyes pleading for her to pick him up.

She did as asked, and placed him on the window sill.

"You want to play a game, Nagrom?" she asked.

The chameleon shook his head furiously.

"Well, what do you want to do?"

His eyes lit up. He turned to the outside world and pointed to it with his white-tipped tail. A look of disappointment slid across her pretty features.

"We can't, and you know that."

If chameleons could glare, Nagrom was. He turned back to the view of the outside world. Her eyes never left her little friend, curious at what he might do next.

Then he froze.

Her eyes followed the lizard's stone gaze. Out toward the path her grandfather took to leave the tower's hiding place, there was a dark shape hurrying to the tower.

But it wasn't her grandfather.

It was someone she had never seen before.

They've come for me! She thought immediately. They've come to get my hair and sell it!

She ran back into the house to grab her favorite sword. Simple, small, but she loved it all the same.

And she waited.

Hiding behind one of the curtains, she waited. Nagrom was across the room from her, signaling her as the unknown got closer to the tower.

Then, she heard a thunk.

Then another one.

Then another.

Progressively, all of the thunks got louder and louder, closer and closer.

They're climbing the side of the tower?!

The person reached the top and swung their legs through the window.

Their back turned to her, she saw spiked grey hair and a light blue vest. The person was armed, with a sheathed sword on their hip. They slipped the leather strap of a bag on their shoulder over their head.

"I don't know why there's a tower in the middle of nowhere," the unknown spoke smoothly. She had never heard a voice besides her own and her grandfather's. The voice was soft, deep, and interesting to listen to. "But at least we're alone now."

We?!

They brought the bag up their face and flipped it open to look at the contents.

Now!

Quietly, she padded over to the stranger…

And…

"HA!"

She brought the hilt of her sword down on the stranger's head.

They buckled and collapsed.

She stood there, staring for was seemed to be forever.

Then, Lucina ran away.