Author's Note: Based off of a prompt involving Anna, a doorknob, and some hot and steamy goodness between the two. As that was the extent of it, my imagination filled in the gaps (o-oh my).

Though Frozen is stated to have been set in the 1840's, the technology utilized in this fic did not come about until the 1880's (read about the "Hammer of Granville" if you would like more information). The technology at that time was more in line with "the Manipulator" (no, seriously) which was steam-powered. Given that Frozen contains a good deal of anachronisms itself I don't feel too bad about shuffling things around.

The medical diagnosis of female hysteria, as treated, but not cured, by "paroxysms" produced by either manual or mechanical vibration, is entirely true, however. Unfortunately, as I a) could not for the life of me understand the few descriptions/pictures I could find of the technology and b) needed certain design characteristics for the sake of the "plot", I am making certain things up: I apologize in advance if this breaks your immersion while you read a smut story about Anna masturbating with a doorknob. For everyone else, enjoy!

To help set the scene, a short limerick:

Nymphomaniacal Jill

Used dynamite sticks for a thrill.

They found her vagina

In North Carolina

And one of her tits in Brazil.

- Rita Mae Brown

Quick grammatical note on the title: though the general, modern rule for using an "a" before words beginning with "h" tends to depend upon whether that "h" is hard or soft (so "an honest mistake" versus "a hotel room") it doesn't always hold true (see "an historical society"), and the older rule is to use "an" for both words that begin with a vowel and "h", which is where the confusion arises. Therefore, either "an hysterical" or "a hysterical" would be correct; the latter is more modern, the former older. As this fic is about old-timey vibrators then I think the older grammar fits the setting better.

Also: the "doorknob" in question is illustrated in the cover image. Some people call this a "door handle", with "knob" implying/describing a circular shape that was not used at the time, nor in the movie itself. I'm just calling it a doorknob.

Content Warning: Contains depictions of one, and then two consenting adults (in their period) engaging in sexual activity. There is some swearing. You have been warned.

An Hysterical Situation

Anna shivered as she stared up at the bed's canopy above her, trying not to panic. Her trembling limbs were feeling less pleasant by the minute, as was the sensation coming from between her legs.

Everything had started off just grand, but now she felt utterly helpless as her insides prickled and tingled painfully against the offending item. She turned her head, watching the machine as its dials gleamed.

She bit her lip and covered her face with shaking hands. And to think she'd thought this would turn out well.

It had certainly seemed that way, at the start…

The princess, alone in the dining room, poked the hard-boiled egg with her spoon. It jiggled a little in its tiny cup. The sight was nauseating.

She didn't like eggs. Elsa liked eggs, be they fried or scrambled or hard boiled, and had used to tease Anna for sticking her tongue out at them every morning. That was years upon years ago, back when it was Anna who was the picky eater and Elsa who, as the grown-up big sister, had diligently cleaned her plate while Anna prodded at her own dinner, scowling. She often refused to eat a single mouthful unless it came from Elsa's portion, dangled enticingly in front of her nose while her sister hid a smile behind her hand. Often Anna was too bored to sit still throughout the eternity of a meal, even if Elsa was there at her elbow, her sister shushing her every time Anna whined and begged her to just play with her already, but always with a wink.

One night when their parents had been wrapped up in some particularly engaging conversation, Anna had slipped under the table and yanked her sister down too. They had had an impromptu fight consisting of silverware and plates as weapons and bad one-liners they'd stolen from books as whispered, giggled banter as the pair of them crawled around on their hands and knees around table and parent legs. Elsa had dubbed herself "the Mirror Maiden", for she was holding a small plate in place of a shield, while Anna was the dreaded "Forkfist", thanks to the tined instrument she was wielding with such dexterity that the carpet and table had had a lot more holes in them by the time their "fight" came to a screeching halt. Literally.

Their father had, while rubbing his knee and grimacing, lectured them for a good half-hour on the importance of safety, and watching out for one another, and the responsibility of royalty. While Anna had nodded while holding back yawns, Elsa had been totally silent, and one glance at her had revealed that she was trembling, from her small, folded hands up to her pouting lower lip. Father's talk had ended abruptly when a suddenly distraught Anna had latched onto her older sister and started bawling, managing to gasp out "don't cry Elsa, please," while blubbering into Elsa's dress. "I'm sorry," Elsa had said in a rough voice, looking up at her father as she stroked her sister's hair, "it won't happen again. I promise."

It hadn't, either. For some reason, not long after Anna dreamed of being kissed by a troll and bore the white streak to prove it, Elsa had retreated, turning her head away when Anna tugged at her sleeve, getting up from a couch whenever Anna plopped down upon the far cushion, shutting her door as Anna ran towards her, begging her to leave it open just a crack, just this once. Worst of all, it didn't matter if her older sister was even present physically; she always regarded Anna with this strange, detached look in her eyes, like she was constantly reliving a memory, one more real and important than her own sister, and it was that fact that hurt the most.

Anna glanced at the empty chair at the head of the table as she chewed slowly. Her plate was already empty.

The maid bustled in from the side door and without needing to be told began loading Elsa's half-finished breakfast onto the rolling cart. Her movements were rhythmic, as if she did the same thing day after day. Funny, that.

Anna watched, totally silent, as the woman placed the cup neatly on the cart, followed by the plate, then the mug, and then the still folded napkin. Each piece of cutlery clinked on the cart with a sense of finality.

The spoon. Clack. Elsa has left, again.

The knife. Clack. You are alone, again.

The fork. Clack. Why did you think it would be any different?

Perhaps because today marked, both on the calendar and in the warm air, one of the first days of spring, and the birds had awoken the princess as they bickered and warbled in the sweetest of trills, whistles and cheeps, weaving in and out of the trees in the courtyard like excited children trailing short, colorful flags as they raced one another. It had felt like, well, a new day had dawned, and with it the latest of Anna's plans to change things for the better had sprung into action.

The rumble of the wheels on the cart was muted by the rug as the maid trundled away, pausing just before the door. "Your Highness?" Anna instantly perked up, turning to her with a hopeful smile. "Mr. Folland is waiting for you in the gardens," the maid said. "Should I inform him you will be coming soon?"

Anna's face fell, and she slumped in her chair. "No," she mumbled, "we…I won't be coming. Tell him-" She stopped and looked away. The maid waited patiently, but it was only a few seconds before Anna was setting her shoulders back and returning her gaze with a cheerful, if strained smile, like a fresh coat of paint brushed over rotting wood. "Please tell him," she said, "that while I'm very thankful for him offering his time, Elsa is too…busy to look at the new blooms with him."

It had taken some cajoling on Anna's part to convince Mr. Folland that his garden could use some lilies of the valley, on account of how poisonous they were, but the princess had always found them beautiful, in a sad, drooping way. They reminded her of the large dresses worn by noble ladies in her books on etiquette and the gorgeous paintings she doted upon, and so the pair of them had planted a whole row of bulbs that would bloom into dainty little flowers come spring. Now that they had, Anna had been prepared to argue in favor of a short jaunt in the gardens to her sister in the hopes that Elsa, who had never quite recovered from that terrible shock nearly a year and a half ago, would actually smile. She'd been all ready to make the case that it was an educational venture, something about how a soon-to-be queen needed to understand how crops grew and thrived or something else she'd make up on the spot, but as usual, Elsa had not waited for her to settle in when she arrived at the table, just left soon afterward with a distracted, polite goodbye that was less of an apology and more of a succinct description of their relationship.

"…and too busy to be with me," she added, to her lap, for the maid had already gone.

Elsa would not be going with her to look at a measly row of flowers: she had a coronation to plan. A coronation that was fourteen months away. While Anna was right here, right now, as she had been for years. But a queen does not concern herself with such minor matters.

She was broken out of her thoughts when there came the sound of footsteps at the door, and for a moment her heart quickened: maybe Elsa had changed her mind. Maybe, she would set aside whatever plans and letters of note and royal matters she had been examining, just for today. Maybe, she would return to the dining room, would sit down gracefully and sip coffee like Father used to while Anna tempted her with adventures she had planned for them both, a small, contented smile just barely visible over the edge of the cup.

Maybe, she would even stay.

"…really now, I should think you of all people would have her best interests at heart." The voice, both annoyingly familiar and snide, was just outside the door. Anna slouched further into the cushions. That was a man, and surely not her sister.

"I do, thank you very much, which is precisely why I must object to this." Now that was Kai: more specifically, an indignant, ruffled Kai. Anna frowned and straightened, leaning to the side of her chair as she listened.

"To treatment for her illness? Anyone with eyes can see her condition is and will continue to cause her pain; pain, of course, being the root cause of all of man's ills, and the princess' situation is no exception. Since she is to be crowned soon: her health is of-" Anna gasped, a hand flying to her lips, but the manservant made a shushing sound, and the footsteps continued down the corridor and past the doors.

Quietly, Anna drew her chair back and stood, striding over to the door but halting just before it when Kai made an exasperated noise and the footsteps faded. Her mouth opened into a small "o" of surprise: Kai, one of the older servants, who had bounced the princesses on his knee when they were too much for their father, had a limitless patience born of years of experience dealing with youngsters both rambunctious and morose, and hardly ever expressed any amount of frustration.

Now this was a curious thing indeed. She pushed open the door carefully, for fear it would creak and give her away, popping her head out for a look. The pair of men were turning the corner, but she was able to catch a glimpse of them, quickly identifying the second man as that new doctor - Dr. Westheimer, if she remembered right - who had somehow managed to secure a coveted position that involved tending to the needs of the royal family. The job was only available on account of their previous doctor's death: his insistence upon remaining with the queen to monitor a cough she had developed had proven fatal when he, too, was lost at sea in the same accident that had…happened some time ago, and wasn't important now. Elsa's health, on the other hand, was.

"-have any sense of privacy," Kai growled, one of his hands on the doctor's elbow as he led him away.

"Who would hear? There are hardly any people living in this husk of a castle…" And with that the pair of them were gone.

Anna took a few steps away from the door and paused. A small part of her, that little bit that was clearly inherited from her sister, reminded her that Elsa, for all that her disinterested silence and ever present absence drove Anna crazy, nonetheless deserved peace and quiet and the right to be left alone. If that was what she wanted. Even if Anna refused to believe that anyone truly wanted to be alone. So sneaking after her doctor and Kai while they were having a secret conversation about her sister's health was probably not the best use of her time, nor was it respectful of Elsa's boundaries.

And yet…

Another part of her had latched on to an idea as it slowly coalesced into something real: if Elsa was ill, then she could be cured. Pain could always be treated with the right medicine. Nothing was incurable. And if what the doctor said was right…

The small flicker of hope that she tended to regularly flared up in sudden excitement, and she shut the door, hurrying after the two men.

Well this was turning into a wild goose chase.

Every time she caught a glimpse of Kai's balding head gleaming in the morning light he would take another corner, as though he aimed to confuse her, but she was certain neither of the men were aware of her presence. While hardly outside the norm, it was frustrating to be forever running down the wrong hallways as the surprisingly delicate tread of Kai's footsteps headed in the opposite direction. Stifling a grumble, she jerked to a halt as she nearly ran into a suit of armor, her mind too focused on finding her quarry to pay attention to silly details like large, sharp quantities of metal.

"In here, please." Kai motioned to the open door.

Oh, there they were!

She grinned and made to step around the armor when Kai glared at her, and she halted in her tracks. Her stomach dropped into her shoes at the thought of being caught, but it only took her a second to realize that his eyes were scanning the surroundings with suspicion, much like he had when she had once hidden in her room as a child, refusing to come out until Elsa did, too.

Thankfully this time his gaze slid over her unintentional, yet rather useful hiding spot, and she watched as he nodded, seemingly satisfied, before tugging on the doctor's arm. The younger man took a step back, a sneer making his nose seem even bigger, if that were possible. "You expect me to hold this conversation in a broom closet? I'll have you know that my time is-"

"Your time," Kai said, enunciating clearly through clenched teeth, "which the Crown is paying for, is spent in caring for their Majesties, and that includes their privacy. I refuse to discuss this matter out in public-"

"But a broom closet?" He sounded like a parrot that had been cheated of a cracker.

Anna didn't stick around to hear the way the dispute ended: she was more concerned with finding another way into that closet. She waited until there was a brief lull in the conversation that coincided with both of them placing their hands on their hips, and used that to sneak over to the open doors at the other end of the room. If she went two rooms over, she could cut through the kitchens and wind up behind their current position, using the conference room – a dusty old thing that was hardly ever used anymore – as a backdoor. She allowed herself a mental pat on the back as she jogged toward her destination. Anna was quite good at finding backdoors: she'd been searching for them all her life.

She slipped inside the conference room and crept up to the closet door, holding her breath every time she set her foot down. The terrain here was treacherous: one wrong move and the floor would creak and the game would be up. Taking an exaggerated step to avoid a particularly dangerous section, she sucked in a sharp breath when her foot lost traction on the polished wood, throwing her arms out for balance, but the damage was done.

"Ah!" Anna toppled to the floor, or would have if she hadn't been too close to the panel that served as a door. Her bodyweight slammed it open and she landed half inside the closet and half out. She tensed, biting her lip as she stared at the door to the hallway, but the sound of conversation continued. Whew. She may be a bumbling fool, but at least she wasn't an unlucky one.

She had just managed to hide herself under a pile of linens when hinges creaked and two sets of footsteps entered: one hard and stomping, the other light, considering their maker was a big man.

"I don't see the need for such precautions, Mr. Baardsen."

"Because you are new to this household, Dr. Westheimer, I will allow you your share of mistakes, but I believe it was made clear when you were hired that your discretion is second only to your professionalism."

"Again with the paranoia! Is everyone in this place so frightened at the thought of medical treatment? I can't even examine her!"

"And that is exactly what I wish to discuss: your treatment cannot involve touching her Majesty. She would never allow it. Especially there."

"But how am I supposed to help her, then?"

"I don't know: I believe you were the one who was adamant that, of the two of us, you were the doctor." Anna crushed a hand over her mouth, her sides quivering. Trust an unhappy Kai to be as disrespectful as his good breeding and manners would allow.

"This would not have been a problem if those useless fools hadn't dropped my luggage. I told them over and over again just how important, how fragile many of my things were, but did they listen? Of course not! I had a hand-made Galville device, top quality, the kind that only the wealthiest could afford-" Anna resisted the urge to yawn. If the way the floor creaked when Kai shifted was any indication, she wasn't the only one who didn't care about how expensive this thing was. Whatever it was.

"Unfortunately, accidents happen. The important thing is to be able to move on. Was there anything else you could do?"

"There's nothing that I can do: I don't know how to fix it myself, and I have been unable to find someone capable of repairing it."

"Someone up to your standards." Kai's deadpan was so much funnier when it was directed at someone else.

"Precisely," the doctor said, the sarcasm flying directly over his head. "Why do you think I've ordered another one? Of course now it will take weeks to get here, and in the meantime her Majesty will suffer."

"Yes, that's just how it is, isn't it?" Anna frowned. There was something in Kai's voice that bothered her, like he was talking about someone who had died. He took in a deep breath and Anna risked a look, disappointed to find her entire view obscured by his large back. "Well. So long as you understand, Dr. Westheimer, that her Majesty strongly prefers to attend to her own health needs herself…?"

"Yes, yes, yes. Are we done here, then?" Kai must have nodded, because the doorknob rattled and then there came the creak of the door opening.

"What did you want to be done with the broken machine?" he asked as he stepped through the door.

"Throw it out with the rest of the trash, I suppose it…" Their voices faded away.

Anna waited until she heard the door close behind them. She stood up, dropping towels in her wake, staring at the door as she mulled over the snippet of conversation she'd just heard, thinking hard. What little she saw of Elsa consisted of clipped dialogue that was more nervous, babbling monologue on Anna's part while Elsa remained quiet and demure, her elegant gloves laid upon her lap whenever she was not eating or drinking. The vast majority of her time spent outside her rooms was at meals or meetings. Anna was constantly and unhappily amazed to find just how many things could be done within one's rooms, if one didn't mind being stir crazy. But perhaps this wasn't true: of late, Elsa had become, if possible, quieter, reaching more often for her glass than her silverware, leaving more and more food behind when she decided it was time to go, and Anna had watched helplessly as her older sister's dresses hung looser on her, her thin, always covered fingers stroking her temples as she grimaced at the food.

Or maybe at the sight of her dinner companion. It was hard to tell.

It had never occurred to her before to put down Elsa's avoidance of her, and of everything else that was happy and fun for that matter, to an illness, partly because Elsa was never sick, partly because she had never heard of illnesses that could last for years, even decades, and yet not kill their victim, and partly because a small part of her believed that their separation was, in some ways, her fault, and could not bear to attribute it to Elsa alone. But at the same time her previous hope returned: if Elsa was sick, and that sickness manifested as her current…condition, then surely a cure would make things better. It might even solve things.

Anna came out of the closet. She had work to do.