"...whose reign ended in the late 1500's," Cogsworth droned, history book in hand. Rose let out an exasperated yawn as she doodled a swordsfight in her notebook. Christopher returned the boredom with a drooping head. The young prince and princess enjoyed reading, but their stuffy tutor made reading a chore. Cogsworth glared at his two charges. "Are you paying attention?" he asked in irritation. "This may be on your exams next week!" The royal siblings let out a loud groan. "Oh, Cogsworth, we've heard this lecture a thousand times!" Christopher moaned. "Can't we move on to another subject?" Rose pleaded. Cogsworth rolled his eyes. "Very well, you may have a fifteen minute break. But I expect you both here in the library ready to learn!" Rose and her brother expressed their thanks and bounded out of the massive library.
Rose plopped onto her comforting bed. She clutched the rosebud charm necklace that hung from her neck. It had once been apart of a rattle. Mrs. Potts had suggested to convert the rattle into a necklace on the princess's seventh birthday. A necklace was more idealistic than a rattle at Rose's age. That necklace, it seemed, was a source of comfort. It reminded her that she once had a joyful past. Never could she part with that happiness.
She examined the disheveled ceiling-to-floor bookshelves, changing her interest. Which novel would she devour today? Rose shifted her glance to the other shelf in which she stored her artwork. Or should she sketch something? The princess picked up a tempting hardcover and flipped to her place.
" "I am the lost princess," Rapunzel mumbled inaudiably. Mother Gothel impatiently growled," Speak up. You know how I hate the mumbling." Rapunzel straightened. "I am the lost princess, aren't I?" she boldly challenged. "Is that right, Mother? Or should I even call you that?" " Rose read. She sighed. Those girls in her books seemed so bold and ready for adventure. She too wished she could be like that. But, like her parents, she was afraid, afraid of what was out there. To Rose's dismay, she didn't know exactly what was out there that frightened her so. Five years ago, something had happened that changed every cell in her parents' bodies. Rose always chided herself for having such a hazy memory. "If only I knew," Rose declared," I would conquer whatever fear it is." She creased her forehead, attempting to squeeze the memory out of her mind, but it still wouldn't come.
Rose shifted her thoughts to a more sensitive subject, her parents. She barely saw them for they usually left the castle on business. When they were here, they were too busy with "important matters" to pay much attention to their children. Once, Rose recounted, during her parents' rare meetings with them, she had questioned why they could not visit the kingdom. "Because, Rose," her mother had explained," it's very dangerous out there. And we don't like danger." Rose had agreed sadly. But now, she realized, she loved danger. Danger thrilled her, though most times it ended it broken bones or twisted ankles. Once before when she was eight, four year-old Christopher dared her to scale the hay shed. It ended with a broken wrist, very agitated goats, and Mrs. Potts having to keep watch over her. But in a few weeks, she was back to hanging upside-down on tree limbs. You could say the princess was quite the daredevil.
A sudden rattling jerked Rose out of her reverie. Several stack canvases on her dresser threatened to slide to the floor, but the quick princess steadied them with an outstretched leg. "Christopher!" Rose bellowed angrily, storming into her brother's room. "You almost knocked over my latest masterpiece." Rose's foot caught into a rope contraption. "Christop-" Rose shrieked as the trap laced around her ankle and jerked her to the ceiling. "Where are you, rat! Get me down!" Christopher appeared from behind a column of volumes. "Sorry, Rose," he apologized hastily as he released a spring," it's my new invention. Invaders will really be surprisd." Rose crossed her arms defiantly. She never understood why her brother was so interested in inventing. It seemed strange. But she had to admit, Christopher was brilliant in this field. Once on flat ground, Rose inspected a sort of utensil with a fork, spoon, knife, and wrench connected at the handles. "Where'd you get an idea like this?" Rose asked half giggling. Christopher shrugged. "Where'd you get ideas for your paintings?" Rose grinned. "From my heart. Whatever I long for, I paint. It's quite satisfactory whenever I feel lonely." The siblings had a depressed gleam in their eyes. Though their goals were different, they longed for one thing, being a family. After a long unspoken silence, Rose glanced at a three faced clock nailed to the wall. "We had better get going. Cogsworth is going to be wound up about us being tardy."