There weren't many rooms in the palace that were off limits to Princess Anna. There was Elsa's room, of course. There was also a small armory where the Royal Guard secured their weapons. One underground storeroom served as a dedicated ice house for the castle, where blocks of frozen water and perishable foodstuffs would often be kept well into the summer. Both of those rooms were always kept locked, although plainly for different reasons.
She might be able to convince Fritz to let her peek into the armory. No doubt he would want to know why she wanted inside and would insist on supervising her even if he did agree to it. That would make things awkward, but if all else failed, she'd try to think of some way around those obstacles. She didn't think she'd have any difficulty getting into the ice room, though. Gerda had a key, and on the rare summer days when the weather got too unbearably hot, she could normally be persuaded to let Anna sneak inside for a little while to cool off.
The ice room was actually right next to the dungeons – which, oddly enough, were not themselves kept locked. True, the cells had the heaviest doors and sturdiest locks of any in the castle, but there was little point in bolting them when no one was being kept inside. Anna had visited the dank and dismal rooms before on her various explorations of the castle, and though they were hardly her favorite locations, she didn't find them particularly forbidding or frightening.
Mostly, the imposing gray walls just seemed so completely out of place compared to the bright cheerfulness of the grounds above them. The outer walls of the palace, stables, and chapel might have been made of stone too, but inside they were all warm wood and bright colors. Obviously, you wouldn't expect a dungeon to have quite that same friendly, welcoming feeling. Still, it just seemed so strange to the young princess that any king would choose to build a prison for holding dangerous criminals only a few stories below the rooms in which the royal family themselves slept.
As far as she knew, the cells had never been used in her lifetime. She'd asked her father about that once, and his response had contained equal amounts of revulsion and pride.
"Those filthy things are a relic of a bygone and barbaric era," he had explained to her. "Stone slabs for beds, chains on the walls and floors. The best thing I can say about them is that they were built tightly enough that not even the rats can find their way in or out when the doors are shut, though somehow the cold manages to sneak in readily enough.
"There is little need for such outrageous measures just to thwart a prisoner's escape. No, those cells were designed for an entirely different purpose. They exist only as a form of torture, nothing more and nothing less. As long as I rule, they will not see use again, no matter how heinous the crime. I've been tempted on more than one occasion to have them sealed permanently. The only reason they still remain open is because they serve as a reminder."
When Anna had tried to get him to reveal what it was they reminded him of, however, he had become strangely silent. In the end, all he had been willing to say was, "That things can't always be the way we would like them to be."
That at least was one sentiment to which Anna could easily relate. But, in the hopes of changing at least one part of her life to be more like she wanted, she had been visiting the bowels of the castle on and off again for a while now. It seemed foolish that the entrance to a secret escape tunnel would be hidden within chambers specifically designed to prevent escape. Still, as the months of her quest had dragged on, she'd resigned herself to the need to try all manner of nonsensical things in her attempts to find the missing passage. After all, what better way to hide something, she reasoned, than by putting it in a place that made absolutely no sense.
So she had wandered from cell to cell, poking and prodding at every stone, pulling on every chain. Though her enthusiasm for the dull and repetitive task had quickly waned, her determination had not. She might not have much patience when it came to sitting around and waiting for something to happen. However, once she actually set her mind and started something, she could be just as stubborn about it as any other member of her family.
Thus it was that today, she had set herself the task of investigating what she considered to be the most peculiar of all the chambers that lay hidden away on this lowest of levels.
The door swung open with a quiet creak as Anna slipped inside. Through the opposite wall, another intruder entered that seemed even more out of place than the princess herself. The bright light of early afternoon stole in through the tall, narrow window slit. Somehow to Anna, the thin sunbeam gave off an impression of guilt, as though it felt remorseful for having entered a place where its presence was not entirely welcome. Then again, perhaps those were only feelings of her own.
Just inside the door, Anna set down the lantern that she had brought with her. Even at this brightest hour of the day, she'd known that the illumination the window offered would not be enough to reach into the cell's darkest corners. She would need the extra light when she began her exploration in earnest. For the moment, however, she could see well enough to make out, lying there in the middle of the floor, the two things that made this particular cage the most peculiar one in the castle.
Walking over to them, she picked one up and carried it over to the thick shelf of stone that jutted out from the side wall. Doing her best to arrange her skirts so that they provided at least a little padding on the unforgiving seat, she held the cylindrical hunk of metal in her hands. Though the sunlight faded off rapidly as one moved to either side of the window slit, there was still enough for her to examine the odd contraption as she turned it this way and that.
Not all of the dungeon chambers actually sported chains. In those that did, the metal links ended in basic shackles that could be clamped around wrist or ankle, at the jailer's discretion. This cell, however, was different, for its chains were not attached to any simple iron cuffs. Instead, what Anna was holding looked more than anything like a separate prison cell crafted to hold a single hand.
Its design bore a vague resemblance to a clam shell, in that it was hinged along one side. Each half was reinforced with three heavy metal bands that, when closed, would wrap entirely around the circumference. On one side of the gaping mouth, these bands ended in small triangular teeth that would slot perfectly into corresponding gaps on the opposite edge of the opening.
Just in front of the hinge, and stretching across from one side of the cylinder to the other, was a thick metal bar. Anna's small hand could slide between that bar and the walls of the restraint with room to spare, but it was obvious that this had not been designed with a child's dimensions in mind. The hand of a full grown man would barely be able to squeeze through that same gap, and then only if he was not particularly brawny. Once his fingers had been wrapped around that bar and the hinge swung shut, he would not be left with enough room to flex a single joint. She felt certain that even if her mother's slender hand were to be encased inside this bizarre device, she would be unable to straighten her fingers again after it had been closed.
This had truly puzzled Anna since the first time she'd been bold enough to sneak down here on her own and have a look around. The iron walls of these strange fetters were ridiculously heavy, thicker by far than any of the manacles in any of the other chambers. They seemed to have been built to confine the most powerful man imaginable, yet the hands of such a man would never fit within them. It made absolutely no sense.
She had considered asking her father about them as well, but it had taken her quite a while to work up the nerve. There was something about the irons that she found deeply disturbing. Nevertheless, she'd finally managed to blurt out the question one evening over dinner. The queen, who found the dungeons every bit as distasteful as did her husband, was mostly concerned to find that her daughter had been snooping around such a dreadful place to begin with. Anna had then spent far too much time convincing her mother that she had just been indulging her curiosity, that there was no harm in simply looking after all, that the doors would not lock even if they did close behind her, that she wouldn't be foolish enough to attempt to clamp herself in the shackles, and that even if she did, she was still so small that she'd be able to slip out of them easily enough anyway.
Eventually, she'd finally managed to get back to asking her original question again, but her father hadn't responded right away. Actually, since the moment she'd asked the first time, it had seemed as though he'd had an abrupt loss of appetite. He had stopped eating and instead just stared down at his plate, pushing the food around a little with the tines of his fork. She'd had to prompt him a third time before she got any answer at all, and even that hadn't been very satisfying.
He had merely told her that there was no understanding the sort of twisted mind that would conceive of such vile things. And though he had not forbade her from continuing to explore the dungeons, his tone of voice had conveyed, in no uncertain terms, his desire to not speak of them again.
He had then immediately changed the subject. Anna had never raised the matter again since that day.
Now, though, she had begun to wonder. If someone had actually thought that such great lengths might really be necessary, then why did restraints such as these only exist in this single cell? Or was it possible that perhaps they had never actually been intended to secure anyone? Their impracticality might well have meant that this cell could have gone largely unused for who knew how long. At the same time, though, the bindings still managed to not seem entirely unreasonable or totally out of place.
Maybe they'd been left as a clue! Maybe Bolli or one of his descendents had placed them here as a subtle marker, just in case the secret of the entrance should ever be forgotten. They were exactly the sort of thing that might be overlooked in a search conducted by people who didn't know the castle all that well. That would make sense, wouldn't it? At least it made as much sense as any other explanation she had for their seemingly inexplicable presence. Besides, after the many months she had already spent searching the castle, she was willing to grasp at just about any straw.
Setting the cylinder back down on the floor, Anna retrieved her lantern. Striking a match against the stone bed, she carefully lit the wick. Then, with the headstrong determination that had been passed down to her from both of her parents, she moved off into the darkest corner of the room and once again resumed her hunt. Her questing fingers probed the rocks for a hidden switch or cunningly disguised door that, in all honestly, even she was beginning to believe might not actually exist.
• • •
"Excuse me, Your Highness, but... what are you doing?"
Her first thought was to answer with a careful dodge – a half-truth that, while not exactly a lie, wouldn't really tell the entire story either. After all, it had seemed to work pretty well when her mother had caught her in the library a few months earlier. However, her frustration, irritation, exasperation, and various other related -ations got together and decided that thinking really was more trouble than it was worth. Instead, after a brief and not terribly hard fought mutiny, they seized direct control of her mouth.
"I'm looking for a way out of the castle," she grunted as she pushed futilely against the wall. Well, at least the annoyance she was feeling at that particular moment served to color her tone nicely. The words came out sounding almost entirely sarcastic.
"Oh," came the amused reply. "Well, personally, I just tend to use the main gates."
Anna paused in her exertions, turned slowly around, and offered a very dirty look to the man who was leaning against the side of the doorway.
"Sorry," Josef said, looking suitably abashed. "Bad joke on my part."
The princess sighed. "Oh, it's not your fault that I'm stuck in here," she admitted, half raising her arms to take in her surroundings. "Well, you do happen to be blocking the door at the moment. But when I said here, I meant here as in the castle, not here here, in this stall."
She had spent hours poking and prodding at every part of that dreary cell that she'd been able to reach. She'd crawled under the hard slab of a bed, stood on top of it, pulled and twisted the iron rings that had been bolted to the walls. She'd even gone out and nabbed a short stool from the unmanned guard station (why guard an empty dungeon, after all) so that she could stand upon it to pound on the stones that would otherwise have been out of her reach. All she'd had to show for her time and effort, however, had been two sore and scuffed hands.
That had been weeks ago now. She'd examined the rest of the dungeons too, but her luck had not improved. In fact, she had by now explored nearly every room in the palace two or even three times over. These last few months might well have been the first time that she'd felt in any way grateful for the reduction in staff, because at least that had also reduced the number of curious questions she had to avoid answering in regards to her decidedly peculiar behavior.
Not that she could avoid all of them, of course.
"But seriously, what were you doing?" Josef asked again.
"Oh, don't mind me," she said, this time with a passable attempt at airy casualness. "I just came down to visit Adelen."
Her answer had the added virtue of also being true. She honestly had decided to indulge in a short break from searching the palace and had come down to the stables to check in on her favorite horse. After all, she'd been feeling guilty that her little quest had been keeping her from spending as much time with him as she normally would have.
Josef looked at her, looked around the empty stall in which she stood, then leaned back a bit to look down the length of the stables.
"Um, Adelen is two stalls that way," he pointed out helpfully.
"Oh."
Unfortunately, Anna had quickly discovered that setting aside this latest obsession of hers wasn't quite as easy as she had imagined. She really had spent some time grooming Adelen, even though the stablehands would have already taken care of that as part of their regular duties. She'd also treated him to some apple slices that Gerda had been good enough to give her on her way out. Even after all that, however, her horse had still been rather restive, probably from having spent too much time cooped up in his stall without a chance to even get out into the courtyard. She'd found herself having to take extra care to avoid getting bumped all about by his nervous pacing.
She'd been just about ready to go fetch her saddle and take him for a quick ride to try to calm his nerves when a thought had occurred to her. Might the original builders of the castle have counted on the presence of horses in the stables to provide extra concealment for the entrance to a hidden tunnel? It was difficult enough maneuvering around the tight spaces even with a perfectly contented horse inside. Surely, that would make them an even more effective hiding place. Now though, most of the stalls were empty, so...
"Is there something wrong with the wall?"
"What?" she asked distractedly.
"Well, the way you were going at it a moment ago, I thought maybe you were afraid it was going to attack somebody. It looked like you were trying to hold it at bay."
"Oh, no, it wasn't anything like that," she said. Then mercifully, before her mouth became a battleground again, the answer she had been searching for earlier happily presented itself. "I was just checking to see if any of the boards were loose. You know, if there are any gaps or openings or... or... things."
"Ah," Josef replied. "Things. Yes, I've heard those can be very problematic."
Anna's scowl reappeared. "You know, you're being awfully flippant towards a princess."
Pushing himself straight, Josef dipped into a deep bow. "My apologies, Your Highness. I'm afraid I must have mistaken you for someone who once told me that she was looking for a friend." The words could have sounded harsh but for the fact that the mouth from which they issued simply would not stop grinning.
Anna rolled her eyes. "Okay, you're right. I didn't mean it. It's just that lately, I've been feeling a little... Well, that doesn't really matter. I was only trying to say that I'd thought perhaps somebody ought to inspect the stables. I wouldn't want anything bad to happen to Adelen or Trofaste or Tønne. I just wanted to make sure that everything was sound. Solid. You know..."
"Stable," he offered helpfully. "Sorry, sorry! I'll stop. Please, don't give me that look again. Still, I can't help but wonder exactly where among the list of responsibilities for a princess of the realm does it list structural surveys of the castle grounds?"
"Where does it say that she can't?" Anna replied, crossing her arms and tilting her chin up defiantly. "Besides, princesses aren't expected to see to the bedding in their own horse's stall either, but I've never heard anybody complain whenever I've done that."
"Don't get me wrong," said Josef as he held up his hands defensively. "I find your concern commendable. It's just that I'm pretty sure there must be somebody whose job it is to do that already."
This actually caused the princess to stop and think. "I don't really know," she answered truthfully. "I mean, you would think so, wouldn't you? There must have been someone back before the gates were closed at least, but I have no idea who it might have been."
"Well, if you've decided to take over the job, then by all means, don't let me stop you." The tall horseman leaned a shoulder against the side of the stall door again, apparently settling in to watch for a while longer. Anna, realizing that she had little choice in the matter now, reluctantly turned around and began running her eyes over the heavy wooden planks again. For the moment, she found herself irrationally reluctant to return to poking them right away. Wouldn't it just be her luck to have a secret door suddenly decide to pop open while Josef was literally looking over her shoulder?
"Did I ever tell you about the ghost who haunted the stables at the inn?"
"I don't think so," she answered, doing her best to sound preoccupied with her task. "Pretty sure I would have remembered that one."
"It was shortly after I started my apprenticeship," he began. With the high spirits he was clearly enjoying that day, he wasted no time warming to his storytelling role. "Of course, that meant I was given all the most thankless jobs. I had to be there every day at the crack of dawn to give them their morning feed and muck out the stalls. It did mean that I was trusted with a key to the door, though. We always locked it overnight, just to make sure nobody would slip in and try to make off with a horse that wasn't their own.
"Anyway, I'd been doing that for several weeks, and it really wasn't all that bad. They were pretty mindless tasks, so most of the time I was half asleep while I took care of them. That is until that one morning. As usual, I was there before anyone else had even gotten up yet. I undid the padlock and started to pull open the door.
"Well, let's just say that after that, I wasn't the only one awake. This gray shape leaped right out of the door straight at me. Startled me so bad, I fell right over backward and let out such a yell. Before I could get my bearings back, though, the shape had disappeared like a shot, vanishing into the morning fog.
"Needless to say, the innkeeper and his guests weren't too terribly thrilled with all the commotion. The head ostler gave me quite a tongue lashing, too. He said I could've spooked the horses carrying on like that. I tried to point out that one shout was hardly carrying on, but like I said, I was too young for anyone to be all that interested in what I might have to say."
Thinking about the discussion she'd tried to have with her parents about leaving the castle, Anna could understand that particular feeling all too well.
"I was given extra chores that day as a reward. And before I went home that night, I was reminded that there were paying customers who would be trying to enjoy their sleep come morning, and that I would do well to let them do so.
"When morning came, I was back at the stables, but I really didn't think that I had anything to worry about. If some animal had managed to sneak in two nights earlier, it was surely long gone by now. So again, I undid the lock. Again, I opened the door.
"And again, that gray shape shot straight past me like a streak of smoke.
"At least I had the good sense not to cry out that time. I started to run off after it, but then came to my senses. I knew I'd be in even deeper trouble if I left the stables open and unattended at that hour. So back I went, finished my chores, and when everybody else finally started to show up, I didn't say anything to anyone.
"What I did do, however, was to ask the innkeeper for a bit of money to buy some nails and boards. I told him, truthfully enough, that I wanted to try and patch up any little holes I could find in the stable walls. Didn't want rats getting in and building nests in the straw, after all. I was rather surprised that he not only didn't argue, but actually praised me for my initiative.
"So that day, when I wasn't busy with my other duties, I hunted around for all the biggest holes I could find, and I covered up every one that time allowed. When I went home that night, I was feeling quite proud of myself. I didn't see any way that a fox or a rabbit or other animal of any size would be able to sneak in before morning."
"Let me guess," Anna interjected, officially abandoning her feigned indifference.
"Yep," Josef nodded. "The same gray streak tore out of the door the instant it was opened the next morning.
"Over the next week or so, I tracked down every knothole, every gap, every crack in those stable walls. I'm sure the rest of the hotel staff thought I'd lost my young mind. My workmanship was good, though, and since I was doing all this for no extra pay, the innkeeper didn't seem to mind. By the time I was done, even the wind had a hard time finding its way into those stables.
"And yet, every single morning...
"I began to think that I really was going mad. There was no way that anything could have slipped into that building once the doors were locked. But every night, something did. I was at my wits end. I couldn't understand what was going on. It began to feel like there was only one explanation left to me. Some wayward spirit must have decided to make the stables its home.
"I was so shaken up by that point, I felt that I had to do something drastic. So I finally went to the head ostler and confessed what I'd been doing all that time. His reaction was predictable enough. 'No such thing as ghosts,' he told me. 'And even if there were, no reason one would want to haunt this place.'
"Still, I told him that I needed to know for sure, and I asked him for permission to spend one night in the stables. That way, I'd see, one way or the other. He told me I was wasting my time, but he finally agreed anyway.
"Two nights later, I came back after dinner with a couple of old blankets and more determination than courage. The old man was waiting for me. 'You sure about this, son?' he asked. 'You really want me to lock you in the stables? You know you won't be able to get out again until morning.' Well, I swallowed my fear and told him I was sure. Then I walked inside, laid my blankets out in an empty stall, and then watched him just shake his head as he closed the door and fastened the lock.
"Now this was hardly the first time I'd slept in a stable. And while I'll admit it took a while for my nerves to settle, the straw was warm, the night was quiet, and everything smelled of horse. Soon enough, I'd drifted off to sleep.
"I had no way of knowing how time had passed when I suddenly found myself wide awake again. I sat bolt upright and turned towards the door. There was a rattling noise coming from just outside, and what sounded like scratching. Suddenly, my brilliant plan seemed completely deranged. I backed into the corner of the stall, wishing with my entire being that I had some light. Not that there was any way my shaking fingers could have possibly lit a match, let alone a lantern.
"Slowly, the door began to open. A shadow seemed to fill the entrance. My throat seized up and I couldn't make a sound. I couldn't have moved, even if there'd been any place for me to run. Then there was a flash of movement, black against black, as a familiar shape flung itself into the building...
"And immediately began yapping at me and bounding around my heels.
"'Oh, my! Is somebody in there? You'd... you'd better not try anything or I'll... I'll shout for my husband. He doesn't take kindly to... to tramps who try to sleep here without paying.'
"I about fell on the floor in laughter and relief when I recognized that voice. It was the innkeeper's wife, and she sounded even more terrified than I felt. When I finally was able to catch my breath, I called out and let her know it was just me. Then, of course, we both had explain what we were doing in the stables at such a late hour.
"It turned out that gray streak that had been charging past me every morning was a stray dog that the woman had seen stumbling past the back door of the inn one night. By the looks of it, the poor mongrel had seen some pretty hard times. Perhaps I could have been forgiven for thinking he was a ghost, for he was scrawny enough that it looked like he'd come close to being one.
"Well, her heart had gone out to the dog straight away, and she'd started setting out scraps from the kitchen for it every night. It hadn't taken long before he'd latched on to her as his best friend in the entire world, and the feeling was mutual. She always did have a soft spot for animals.
"Unfortunately, her husband was another matter. She knew he'd never let a dog in the house, let alone one in such a sorry state. So once the dog had come to trust her enough, she decided to sneak him into the stables instead. At least that way, he'd have someplace warm to spend the night. Even then, she was afraid her husband wouldn't approve, so she hadn't told anyone.
"Now I don't know why that little dog was in such a hurry to get out come morning. Maybe he had places to go. Maybe he didn't like being locked up. Maybe he just really needed to relieve himself. But no matter how glad he was to be free each day, he kept coming back every night."
"So did you tell the innkeeper?" Anna asked somewhat fearfully. "I hope his wife didn't get into too much trouble. Or the poor dog, either."
"Actually, we sort of made a deal," Josef admitted. "We told the head ostler first. He got a good laugh out of it, of course, and he never let me forget my little ghost the rest of the time I worked there. But he agreed to basically adopt the little fellow as part of the stable crew. He made some excuse to the proprietor about keeping a watchdog on the premises in case anybody tried to break in during the night. Of course, we wouldn't want one too big, he said, because that might scare the horses or the guests. We just needed a small one that could make a lot of racket if anything happened. It took a bit of persuading, but the innkeeper finally relented, and everybody was the happier for it."
The princess grinned. Then a quizzical expression took its place. "What made you think of that story all of a sudden?" she asked. She turned back again to look at the wall behind her. "I guess it must have been all this talk about the stable walls, huh?"
"That was part of it," he agreed, "but something else also occurred to me while we were talking that brought it back to mind."
"And what was that?" Anna asked as she looked back toward the stall door. The door frame, however, was empty. Still, she heard her friend's voice carry back to her from around the corner as it moved away.
"You can't always believe what you think you've seen. Or heard."
She didn't know how he did it, but Anna could have sworn that Josef's voice winked.
• • •
It was hard enough, she reflected, hunting for a passage that was so secret, even the few people who'd heard about it didn't think it existed. Harder still was facing the possibility that they might actually be right. Either way, her search wasn't made any easier by the fact that she couldn't honestly come right out and tell anyone what it was she was doing. She was entirely on her own, unable to ask for help. That made certain things especially difficult.
Things like getting through the door in front of her, for example.
It turned out that there was one other room in the castle that always seemed to be kept locked. However, unlike the armory or the ice room, Anna had no idea what was hidden behind this particular door. There didn't appear to be anything obviously special about it. It was meekly tucked away in one corner of the palace. Judging where the room next door seemed to end, it couldn't possibly be all that large either.
Even years ago when she and Elsa had roamed the castle together, they'd never gained entry to this particular room. Her sister had wanted to ask their parents what was inside, but Anna had convinced her otherwise.
"We already know the entire castle!" she'd protested. "I think it's fun that there's one place we don't know. Don't you think it's nice to have a little bit of missed story?"
"You mean mystery," Elsa had corrected her.
"Yeah, that's what I said. I mean, who knows what could be in there! Maybe there's mountains of gold. Or maybe dozens of cages all filled with songbirds! Or, or... or maybe there are dead bodies!" The last came out in a hushed whisper.
Elsa had wrinkled her nose at that idea. "Mama needs to stop reading you those pirate stories at bedtime."
"But I love them!" Anna had declared, brandishing an invisible cutlass. "They're so amazing. Wouldn't it be great to be a pirate? Sailing all over the world, having adventures, digging up buried treasure..."
"Getting scurvy, being chased by the royal navy, having your boat's hull blown apart by a cannonball..."
"Yeah! Much more fun than sitting through boring lessons. Or listening to Nanny go on about... about... um..."
"You've already forgotten what she was trying to tell us this morning, haven't you?"
"Nope!" Anna had shaken her head. "Didn't remember it in the first place!" Then she had grinned so broadly that Elsa had simply burst out laughing. A second later and they'd both run off to the nearest fireplace. Grabbing an iron poker each, they had begun an energetic if rather clumsy sword fight.
It was funny how some of the silliest little things managed to stick with you like that. If she closed her eyes and concentrated, she could almost hear her sister's laughter again. She really missed that sound.
With a sigh, she returned her attention to the door, and marveled for a moment that a decision she'd made before she was even old enough to spell the word properly had nevertheless kept this room a complete mystery to her. Actually, that's exactly how she'd thought about it for all these years. The palace had a kitchen, a library, the dining hall, the portrait gallery, her father's study, numerous bedrooms, and... the mystery room.
To her, that had been its entire role and function. Even when her world had been turned upside-down and she'd begun to develop her passionate distaste for secrets, thoughts of actually finding out what really lay inside this one room seemed nearly as nonsensical as bathing in the ballroom. It had always been far more fun to just keep dreaming up ever crazier ideas for what might be hiding inside.
The purpose of a mystery room was, after all, to hold mysteries.
Well, a mystery was exactly what she was looking for at the moment. So for the first time in her eleven years, Anna was giving serious thought to finding out what might be hiding in this small little corner chamber. It was simply unfortunate, then, that doing so would almost certainly require her to seek assistance from one of the two people whose attention she least wanted to draw to her recent activities.
She'd been trying to figure out some way to get her answers without having to resort to asking those questions. She had kept checking the door regularly, hoping that she might one day find it unexpectedly unlocked. Many times, she had stood here in the hall with her ear pressed against the keyhole, straining to hear any noises coming from inside. And there was one other thing she had repeatedly tried.
Once again, Anna lowered herself first onto her knees, then flat onto her belly. Wriggling her way forward, she closed one eye and tried to peer beneath the door. There really wasn't much chance of her seeing anything useful like this, of course. Somehow though, the gaps between door and floor had taken on considerable importance to her over the last few years. She felt that if she was going to learn anything, this would be the way it would happen.
Still, the results this time were as disappointing as every other. All she could make out was the floor, and even that was mostly hidden in shadow. She felt fairly certain that, based on the room's location, she'd been able to confirm from outside that it did actually have a window. Unfortunately, as with the windows in most of the palace's unused rooms, it seemed like the drapes that covered this one were nearly always drawn shut. Once or twice though, when she'd peeked through the narrow gap, she had been surprised to see patterns of light and shadow crisscrossing the floorboards. On those occasions, she imagined that she had even been able pick out the feet of furniture legs, though it was hard to make sense of them or even to be sure what she was seeing.
Today, she wasn't even getting to see that much. It looked like the mystery room would hold on to its mysteries for a while longer, unless she finally managed to ask for help to get inside. Maybe Kai might have a key. Surely, somebody among the staff must. After all, presumably someone got inside to clean the room once in a while. Asking one of them might be less conspicuous than going straight to...
"Why, hello there, princess."
"Ow!"
Anna sat up and gingerly fingered her nose, which she'd rather rudely bumped against the door in her surprise at the sudden sound of the voice behind her.
"Oh, dear. I'm sorry, Anna. I didn't mean to startle you. Are you alright?"
"Don't worry, Papa. I'm fine." I guess that's what I get for sticking my nose in strange places, she thought peevishly to herself.. I just wish everyone would stop sneaking up on me while I'm trying to sneak around!
"Well, I'm glad to hear it," the king said as he hunkered down in front of her and gently tugged her hand aside so he could examine her nose for himself. "But if you don't mind me asking..." he continued as he turned her head slightly from one side to the other.
What were you doing? Anna completed the sentence silently in her head, perfectly in synch to the words her father spoke aloud. Mentally, she rolled her eyes. She was getting very tired of coming up with answers to that question.
"Trying to see under the door," she replied truthfully enough. "It's locked, so I couldn't get inside. Actually, I've never been inside, and I was just... you know... curious."
Agdar smiled. "Ah, I see. Nothing quite captures the imagination like a good mystery, hmm? Well, I'm afraid you might find the surprise ending behind this one to be rather boring, but I'll be happy to show it to you if you'd like."
Anna blinked. It couldn't really have been that easy, could it? After all these years of pondering what dreadful or wonderful secrets lay hidden behind this door that always seemed to be unaccountably locked, now her father was offering to simply escort her inside, just like that? A part of her recoiled at the idea of losing what could almost be considered the last bit of wonder left over from her childhood. However, the sacrifice would be more than worth it if it meant she might find what she'd been searching for.
And so she nodded.
The king stood and, offering her a hand, helped her to her feet as well. Then from a pocket, he withdrew a small key, fitted it into the lock, and turned. The door swung inward and he gestured for Anna to lead the way inside.
The first sense she got of the room was that it was very small indeed. Compared to what the overactive imagination of her younger self had repeatedly conjured up, it was positively miniscule. She actually had to squeeze to one side to let her father pass. When he made his way over to the curtained window and pulled the draperies aside, she finally got her first good look at the answer to this oldest of her childhood mysteries.
The room was mostly dominated by a small round table, just big enough to accommodate the two wooden chairs that straddled it on either side. Behind it, tucked away in one corner, stood a tall and solid-looking cabinet. On the opposite wall, nearly hidden behind the open door, was a small fireplace. There were no other furnishings, and though the walls were covered with a lovely (if slightly faded) wallpaper, they bore few additional decorations. In fact, there was only one.
Anna walked over and stood on tiptoe to get a better look at the small painting. It depicted a handsome couple, apparently royalty judging by the golden crowns that nestled atop heads of dark brown hair so close in hue as to be nearly identical. The two were posed in front of a bright blue sky, which was a near perfect match for the color of their rich garments. Hers was decorated with a fine filigree of golden swirls. His turquoise tunic was unadorned, but was covered by a heavy red mantle that was lined and trimmed with fabric of a similar tawny shade.
He wore a heavy golden pendant that was set with alternating blue gemstones – sapphires or perhaps topaz. She wore a pearl necklace from which descended three teardrop shaped gems, pale pink in color. His right hand rested upon her shoulder while her delicate fingers cupped his left. Both faces held smiles of blissful contentment.
This time, Anna sensed her father when he came up to stand just behind her. "Are these your parents?" she asked.
"No," he replied with a smile. "That's your Aunt Primrose with her husband, shortly after he was crowned King of Corona."
"That's my aunt?" Anna asked in a mixture of surprise and wonder, and she stared at the picture with even greater intensity. "She's really pretty."
Agdar chuckled. "I'll be sure to tell her you said so the next time I write to her."
After a few more seconds, Anna tore her eyes away from the painting and looked around the modest space again. "Was this her room?" Her voice was rather incredulous. "It's awfully small."
"It wasn't her bedroom, if that's what you mean. I suppose you could say it was our room, hers and mine. We used to come here when we wanted to hide away from the rest of the world for a little while." He looked around wistfully. "We came here quite a lot. And before that, it was our mother's sanctuary.
"Small can be good when you're looking for peace and quiet. Prim said that Mother loved this room because you could really only ever fit two or three in here comfortably. On those days when she felt the weight of world (or at least the kingdom) on her shoulders, she knew she could always come in here, because the rest of the world wouldn't fit." Again he smiled and ran one hand across the top of the little table.
"So why do you keep it locked?"
"Because I like to come in here now and then when I need to clear my head. It allows me a little privacy and time to think."
"I thought that's what your study was for."
"Oh, I'm afraid that's far too large a room. When I'm in my study, I'm always the King of Arendelle. Too much of the world manages to squeeze its way in there. Here, I can just be myself for a little while. I can think about things that don't necessarily affect the entire kingdom."
"Like what?"
"Like you, for one. And Elsa. Your mother and my sister. The past and the future. Things I need to do. Things I wish I'd done differently. All the silly, trivial nonsense that everyone thinks about, no matter their station in life."
"Okay, but that doesn't explain why you keep the door locked even when you're not in here."
"Fair point." He sighed. "In the end, I guess it's really just because I'm more sentimental than I care to admit."
Being the gentleman that he was, Agdar pulled out one of the chairs and offered it to Anna. Once she was seated, he walked around the table and followed suit. Turning his gaze out the window, he paused only briefly before continuing his train of thought.
"I keep a lot of fond memories in this room. Truth be told, you could say that most of the happy moments in my life, at least before I met your mother, happened right here. So even though it might not look like much, it means a great deal me.
"There's always so much change, all the time and everywhere. Children grow up, parents grow old. Friends come and go. And when you look at the bigger picture, at the wider world... Well, I mean, steam power alone has just about turned everything on its head and given it a good, solid shake.
"Even this castle, ancient as it is, continues to change. We have your mother to thank for much of that. She was quite enthusiastic about rearranging and redecorating after she became queen. Always with impeccable taste, of course, and yet every room somehow managed to feel more comfortable and livable by the time she was done.
"But this room, this one room has barely changed at all since I was a boy. Apart from that painting, it's exactly how I remember it. I'm not sure that there's anything else I can truly say that about. And even though the chairs aren't exactly soft and the fireplace is a bit drafty and the hinges on the cabinet door squeak, there are still times when I find it to be more comforting than any other room in the entire palace. So I suppose that's why I keep it locked. I love it exactly the way it is, and I haven't wanted to risk walking in here one day to find that something has changed."
Anna considered this for a beat. When she spoke again, her face was a little downcast and her voice was decidedly glum.
"There are some things that I really wish would change."
Agdar turned and looked closely at his daughter. "And some things you wish had never changed in the first place." Though it hadn't been a question, she still nodded. He reached across the table and took her hand.
"I'm sorry, Anna," he said. "I never imagined things would drag on as long as they have. Your mother and I figured that Elsa would only need maybe a year, two at the very most, before she... before everything would get back to normal. We had no idea.
"We had such high hopes when she started talking to you again for that year. And when she came out for her birthday, we thought it was finally almost over. But I don't need to tell you that. I know you felt the same way. Unfortunately, it turned out that it wasn't that easy after all.
"Still, there are promising signs again. Just look at the present your sister gave you on your birthday. Maybe it didn't seem like it to you, but that was a huge step for Elsa. We're hoping it's just the first of many. Remember, though, that it took months of Elsa just talking with you through the door before she felt ready to come out of her room. It's going to take time again." He squeezed her fingers gently.
"I know we can get through this together. Your mother and I will keep doing all we can to help you, both of you. I know you've never lost faith in your sister, and I have no reason to think you will now. I also know that you don't want to hear this again, but you just need to be patient. We all need to be."
"I can be patient," Anna answered quietly. "Maybe not for everything, but at least for some things. The ones really worth waiting for."
"I know." Agdar smiled proudly. "And you know what? Maybe a few things do need to change."
Anna looked up in surprise, as her thoughts immediately went to the one thing that had been occupying her mind for months on end now. Did he mean...? Could he really have changed his mind? Was it actually possible that he was about to tell her she would be allowed to leave the castle after all?
"I think it's time I stopped keeping this room all to myself. If it helps me relax and find my patience again whenever I'm on the verge of losing it, maybe it can do the same for you. From now on, you can come in here whenever you like – even when I'm in here. I'd welcome your company.
"One less locked door, hmm? How does that sound?"
"That sounds wonderful, Papa." The princess smiled.
She didn't feel it, though. All she felt was discouraged. One small room. She wanted to see the world. She wanted to see everything, but she would have been satisfied with just the little bit of it that lay right outside the castle gates. Instead, she got one small room.
The shining hope she had found when she'd read about Bolli's tunnel was finally beginning to lose some of its luster. She was trying her best to be patient, but that was something that would never come easily to her. All these months of searching had revealed nothing, and it was looking very likely that this whole escapade would simply turn out to be yet another in a long line of disappointments.
One more month, she decided. If she hadn't found the secret passage by Midsummer's Eve, she would give up the search. She was an optimist by nature, but it was becoming too painful to watch so many of her dreams fall apart.
Maybe it was time to just accept her life for what it was. Maybe part of growing up was realizing that dreams simply do not last. After all, they're only stories that we tell ourselves in the depths of the night. When daylight comes, they quickly fade away like a morning mist. Perhaps it was best to just let them go.
One more month, and then that was exactly what she would do.
