The Intruder Awakens

Flynn Rider's head throbbed.

His thoughts were a tangled mess, as if someone had rattled his brain inside his skull. Slowly, awareness seeped in, his fingers twitched, his body ached, and there was an uncomfortable pressure at the back of his head.

Then, a new realization struck him.

His arms wouldn't move.

His eyes flew open.

The first thing he saw was hair.

A lot of hair.

It cascaded around him in golden waves, glimmering in the soft sunlight streaming through a nearby window. For a brief, disoriented moment, Flynn thought he had somehow fallen into a haystack. But then—

"Oh, good, you're awake."

Flynn's gaze snapped upward.

A girl.

A very pretty girl, to be exact, standing over him with wide green eyes. But there was something else, something far less appealing.

He was tied to a chair.

With hair.

Flynn tugged against his restraints, realizing that golden locks had been wrapped expertly around his torso, pinning his arms to his sides. He tried to move his legs, no luck. The hair had been wound so tightly that he could barely breathe, let alone escape.

His mind raced.

Where was he? And how had he ended up like this?

His last clear memory was running from the Stabbington Brothers, climbing the tower to escape, and—

Bam.

The frying pan.

Right.

Flynn groaned. This was not how he'd planned his afternoon.

"Alright," he said, mustering his best charming smile. "Before we begin, let's just address the giant, hair-covered elephant in the room. Why am I tied up?"

The girl hesitated, gripping the handle of the very frying pan that had nearly knocked his soul out of his body.

"Because," she said, lifting her chin, "you broke into my tower."

Flynn blinked. "Wait, your tower?"

She nodded firmly.

Flynn's eyes darted around, taking in the surroundings. The space was small but filled with color, paintings covered the walls, stacks of books lined the shelves, and bundles of flowers hung from the rafters. It smelled like lavender and fresh air. Sunlight streamed through the large arched window, casting a warm glow over everything.

It was strangely... cozy.

He looked back at the girl, really seeing her for the first time.

Her long golden hair, probably the longest he had ever seen, was braided loosely over her shoulder, though a few strands had escaped and framed her face. She wore a simple lavender dress, and her expression was a mix of curiosity, caution, and something else... excitement?

"Well," Flynn said, testing his bonds again, "this is a very impressive security system. Is the hair thing a personal choice, or are we dealing with some kind of magic situation here?"

She narrowed her eyes. "I ask the questions."

Flynn sighed dramatically. "Alright, fine. What do you want to know?"

The girl hesitated, glancing at Pascal the tiny green chameleon perched on her shoulder. The creature shot Flynn a suspicious glare.

Finally, she took a deep breath and asked, "Who are you?"

Flynn smirked. "Funny you should ask! The name's Flynn Rider, maybe you've heard of me?"

Her face remained blank.

His smirk faltered.

"No?" he asked, tilting his head. "Seriously? Nothing? The daring rogue? The legendary Flynn Rider?"

Still nothing.

Flynn let out a sigh. "Wow. That hurts."

The girl crossed her arms. "And what were you doing in my tower?"

Flynn hesitated, debating whether or not to tell the truth. He could spin a wild tale, something about being a lost traveler or a prince in disguise, but something told him this girl wasn't easily fooled.

So, he settled for a version of the truth.

"Well," he said, "I was escaping from some very unfriendly gentlemen, and your tower just so happened to be the best hiding spot."

Her eyes narrowed. "So, you're a criminal."

Flynn gasped in mock offense. "Criminal is such an ugly word. I prefer 'independent entrepreneur.'"

The girl wasn't amused.

Flynn sighed. "Fine. Yes, I may have borrowed something that didn't exactly belong to me."

She gave him a pointed look. "You stole something."

"That's a little harsh, but,vyes."

She stared at him for a long moment, then suddenly turned and walked away, mumbling to herself.

Flynn watched in confusion as she paced across the room, twisting a strand of her hair between her fingers. Every few seconds, she muttered something like this is it or I have to be brave.

Finally, she stopped and turned to face him.

"Alright," she said. "I'll make you a deal."

Flynn raised an eyebrow. "Oh? I like deals."

She took a deep breath, as if gathering courage.

"You take me to see the floating lights."

Flynn blinked. "Wait. What?"

"The floating lights," she repeated. "I see them every year on my birthday. I want to see them up close. Take me, and I'll give you back your satchel."

Flynn's heart nearly stopped.

His satchel.

His eyes flicked toward the corner of the room, and there it was, resting on a wooden table. The satchel that held the stolen royal crown.

Flynn forced himself to remain calm, even as his mind raced.

This girl, this strange, tower-dwelling girl, was his only ticket to getting his loot back.

And he needed that satchel.

Flynn plastered on his most charming smile.

"Alright, Blondie," he said. "You've got yourself a deal."