Princess Charlotte leaned far out the single arched window of the tower, high above the rocky slopes. “Are you ready, Fizzle?” she called excitedly. Her scaly companion chirped happily, chain rattling as he thumped his massive tail. She had once feared the dragon - until she realized his ferocity was due to hunger. After all, the basket with her day’s rations came every morning, but she had never seen anyone feed the poor creature. From then on, she had offered him her daily portion of meat, and he never showed a tooth in her direction again.

The food was delivered by winch, from some unseen servant of the witch. The crone had struck a deal with her father when she was just a babe, promising Charlotte’s bright future married to the prince of Charmagne in exchange for his daughter’s freedom until she came of age.

That day had come and gone, and the prince had married someone else. Twelve years ago.

Why should he be able to decide his own fate, while she was trapped here alone, forgotten?

According to the witch, no wedding, no freedom. The old bat didn’t care that the marriage had been her end of the deal. Knights were sent to the rescue, so the witch imprisoned the dragon as guard. A few crispy would-be heroes later, her father had given up.

Today, Charlotte would take matters into her own hands. It had taken months - and every piece of fabric and upholstery in the room - to fashion her escape. The bedsheets and curtains were cut into strips and sewn together for a rope, nowhere near long enough to reach the ground. So she had ripped the seams of the furniture, salvaging the leather for a makeshift harness.

She whistled, and Fizzle flew as close to the window as his restraints would allow. She tossed out the rope, tied fast to the bedpost. The harness looped around her shoulders, she climbed onto the ledge and slowly, carefully, rappelled halfway down the tower. Fizzle stretched one great wing out below her, muscles taut. Charlotte gulped, held her breath, and launched herself off the wall.

She bounced off the membrane like a trampoline. Quick as a whip, Fizzle rolled and caught her in his talons. He flew to the ground and set her down gently. She patted his flank gratefully.

“Now, let’s see about your freedom,” she said, and moved toward her fiery friend’s neck to examine the collar. Just a pull of a pin and the heavy chains clattered loudly as they fell. Fizzle pranced thunderously, and she giggled. She felt euphoric.

Fizzle again extended a wing to her, and she climbed up. The harness buttoned around the nape of his neck, and seemed to fit well enough. She strapped herself in. Fizzle’s muscles tightened beneath her, then a sudden lurch, and they were flying. Flying!

Charlotte’s heart swelled. The whole world lay before them, the world they had both been denied. And they would discover it together.