They couldn’t get out, so they danced. They danced on the bed like two madwomen, one wrapping golden hair around her body, her hips, her elbows, her wrists, until she tangled up in the sweaty strands and fell down, the other reveling in her newfound freedom until it wore off and the fiery shock brought her violently to her knees, gasping and choking on the bed. Then they kissed, savoring the sweet, pungent flavor of spiced wine until they were both red in the face and warm to the touch, and she took a handful of the ratty, wild hair that they had been dancing on and kissed her companion until she cried.

Then they could dance again, upon a puddle of her tears.

They couldn’t remember anything, but they found a wooden chest filled with autumn leaves, and a walnut chifferobe that opened to reveal plain white tunics and ornate, pleated gowns. She clothed herself in a black and pink butterfly swing dress, rejecting the bodice and heavy skirts, and her companion picked a soft sequin dress with sparkling beads running up and down the stitching, and pinned iridescent peacock feathers to the side of her head.

They sat upon the bed in their new dresses, hers fluffy and splayed about her, her companion’s light and shimmery, gently grazing the bed, and spent hours or maybe days working through the mess of hair, combing it with her fingers, braiding it slowly into multiple long braids that ran around and around the room in dizzying circles.

The sunlight shone through the cracks of the stone around the top of the circular room, and they could see the light dimming, brightening, hear the rain outside, smell the changes in the air, yet they could not exit.

“Rapunzel! Rapunzel! Let down your hair!”

They learned that they were in a tower, high high up, the first time they heard a voice, and how far below it came from them.

“Who is Rapunzel?”

“...”

“Is it you? Or is it me?”

“...”

“Answer me, won’t you? Oh, sweetpea, I know you can’t talk, but at least– OW!! Why are you pulling my hair?! Oh, me…? Oh, my hair, I see. Right. Let down your hair. That makes sense… no it doesn’t. Why would I want to let down my hair?”

*shrug*

“And Rapunzel, isn’t that an edible plant? Why am I named after an edible plant? No, no, the roots are too crunchy. If I have to be an edible plant, I’d rather be a lily. Call me Lily from now on, love.”

“...”

“Rapunzel! Rapunzel! Let down your hair!!”

They could not see outside the tower, and to reach the little crack of light at the top she climbed onto Lily’s shoulders, but could not stand because of the raging pain in her legs and feet, and so she sat upon her shoulders like a little child, and what she saw terrified her so much that she fell off the bed.