The man, who went by the name of Flynn Rider, stared at Rapunzel with an unusual expression which he called 'the smoulder': an arrangement of squinted eyes and pouted lips. Somehow, it was supposed to distract her from the deal she had proposed to him.

Before he had awoken earlier, she had successfully bound him to a chair with her golden tresses. Since then, she had discovered two things about him: he had no interest in her hair and all that he did care about was his precious satchel - in addition, she assumed, to the jewelled tiara she had found inside it. Flynn had also told her he was being chased and, upon seeing her tower, had decided to hide within it. What he was concealing himself from, however, he hadn't disclosed.

Rapunzel trusted that her captive's words were genuine. Nevertheless, as her only opportunity to see the floating lights – correction, lanterns - she had no choice but to believe him. She had been naïve to hope that her mother would eventually let her leave the tower. It was almost as if Rapunzel's safety was paramount to her mother's existence.

With no other alternative to fulfil her dream, Rapunzel struck a deal with her prisoner, in which she would only surrender his satchel to him if he took her to see the lanterns and returned her home safely.

Yet Flynn seemed reluctant to settle with the compromise.

Unperturbed by his suggestive attempt to divert her thoughts, Rapunzel hardened her glare.

"This is kind of an off day for me," Flynn whispered. He blinked slowly, sustaining his alluring countenance. "This doesn't normally happen."

Mere moments passed before he complied at last. "Fine!" he cried, irritation burning behind his eyes. "I'll take you to see the lanterns."

Elation burst inside Rapunzel. "Really?" she exclaimed, bunching her fists close to her face. In her sudden joy, she released her hold on the chair which had been balancing on its front legs.

Flynn crashed to the floor and his face squashed against the wooden slats.

"Oops," Rapunzel murmured nervously; Pascal squeaked in awkward agreement.

"You broke my smoulder." Flynn's voice was barely audible from speaking into the floorboards.

Regaining her sense, Rapunzel grasped onto the back of the chair. "Let me help," she said, as she hauled the wooden seat upright.

Flynn wriggled his nose. "At least that's not broken," he muttered quietly. Raising his thick eyebrows, he looked expectantly at Rapunzel. "Well, are you dragging me to the lanterns or are you going to loosen these knots?"

"Yes, of course," Rapunzel replied. In her ecstatic state, her hands were clumsy as she untangled Flynn from the tight clutches of her hair. Pascal assisted her using flicks of his tail, being intentionally careless when he brushed its sharp point against their new guide's skin.

Although Rapunzel needed Flynn to be mobile in order to lead the way, liberating his makeshift chains gave him the freedom to run, along with her only chance to witness the lanterns in person.

When the lasts strands fell obediently to Rapunzel's side, she took a hesitant step back. In her peripheral vision she located her frying pan which she had regrettably abandoned on the wide mantelpiece.

No longer restrained, Flynn rose to his full height and stretched his limbs. He was at least a head taller than her, with broad shoulders and large hands. He fashioned a confident goatee and had traces of a stubble on his jaw, making him appear at least in his twenties.

Averting her eyes, Rapunzel placed another foot back, eager to retrieve her frying pan. Fearful for his human companion, Pascal growled threateningly in the back of his throat.

"Relax, Blondie." Flynn's attempt to reassure her failed as she jumped in fright. "Most women bat their eyelashes or fiddle with their hair when they look at me," he admitted offhandedly. "But you," he said, gesturing to her, "you look at me like I'm some thug."

Rapunzel flinched at his words.

"That," Flynn stressed, reaching his arm further to her with an exasperated look. "That is what I'm talking about."

Releasing a short, anxious laugh, Rapunzel apologised lightly. "I'm just a little nervous."

"Nervous about what?"

She tucked a stray lock behind her ear, trying to buy herself time. Looking at Pascal for reassurance, he merely shook his head and pressed his hands over his mouth. Questions: she knew Flynn would have a lot of them and there was more than enough time in which to answer them.

"Leaving this tower," she confessed. "This journey ahead… people."

"People?"

Her confirmatory nod was hesitant.

Flynn raised an uneasy eyebrow. "When was the last time you left this tower?"

Continuing to walk back, Rapunzel bit her lip tentatively.

"Have you… ever left this tower?" asked Flynn, following her path until her back hit the fireplace.

She looked up at him through her eyelashes. When she spoke, her voice was timid. "No."

With widening eyes, Flynn inhaled deeply. "W-o-w." After accentuating each letter, he finally exhaled. He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Dare I ask why?"

Rapunzel spoke quietly, but her tone was firm and implied she no longer intended to continue the subject. "I don't wish to talk about that."

Flynn opened his mouth slowly. "Okay…" He walked back and pointed in the direction of the singular exit. "Shall we get going?"

"Shouldn't we bring food?" Unsure of how far the lanterns were, Rapunzel thought it sensible to pack some for their journey.

"Blondie," Flynn said, preparing to swing his body out of the window. "We've already got our arms full with your hair. I'll find us a bite to eat on the way." He then disappeared over the ledge.

The last moments Rapunzel had to herself were spent looking at the room around her; it was the only world she had ever known. She took the time to absorb the artistic designs she had decorated her walls and ceiling with, her painting of the floating lights, and the first step of the staircase where she had hidden Flynn's satchel. Although she was relieved he had agreed to her deal - one he took better than she had anticipated - she was now filled with a newfound dread as she contemplated the many consequences of her decision.

She grabbed her frying pan. With every pace closer to her escape, another doubt clouded her vision.

"We can do this, Pascal," Rapunzel murmured but uncertainty was evident in her voice. The faithful chameleon rubbed his head comfortingly against her neck.

"You coming, Blondie?" Flynn called from outside.

Standing at the window, she wrapped her hair around the hook above her and gripped onto her tresses tightly. With her frying pan tucked under her arm and Pascal perched on her shoulder, she stepped carefully onto the ledge.

At last, her life was about to begin.