Juliet

And the man Anna calls Augustus is in love with his neighbor, Augustine. After all, their parents—two charming elderly couples—had always been family friends and had betrothed them from the moment their children were born. The two would leave together every morning and disappear into a small alley leading to the town's central square. However, they always returned separately. But Anna never suspected Augustus of infidelity. On the contrary, he was trying to earn enough money for a beautiful wedding for his beloved, so he lingered until the last customer—in the princess's mind, he was a wood merchant—and only when the market had completely died down, and instead of the hum of the fair, only the duet of wind and distant waves could be heard in the air, lulling the coast with its mournful lullaby, did he go home.

Meanwhile, the carefree Augustina was already asleep, dreaming of Augustus returning before dawn, and, like in the good old days, they would go to the embankment to see the sun off. Her dreams were not destined to come true anytime soon; for years to come, the young man would struggle in vain to provide his family with a decent life and a dazzling celebration, though almost anyone could carve wood.

Without hesitation, the girl made her decision. Enthusiastically nodding her head, she expressed her consent. A wave of excitement and anticipation washed over her, so much so that the most important question didn't immediately occur to her: how to escape from a palace with more guards than inhabitants?

"Come to the greenhouse after lunch; I know you and your sister don't have lessons today," the prince began. "Just wear something simpler, something you don't mind getting dirty." He took a deep breath. "The journey is very unpleasant; if you change your mind or want to turn back halfway, I'll understand. We'll also have a cover story: you and I are brother and sister, arrived from the Southern Islands to accompany our masters to tomorrow's ball. So we'll address each other informally."

"Why do you need all this? You can go out alone; Auntie will allow it," Anna wondered.

"Elsa asked me to find something for her there," he nodded toward the window. "No one will officially let me go without a guard, and they won't tell the prince and his retinue the truth." "And the guards could spread throughout the palace what was intended only for your sister," he concluded.

"What did she need in the city?" the girl was confused and even a little frightened that she was being invited not for a walk, but for a mission.

"To be honest, I don't know yet, but it would be good to remember everything we hear there. After all, it was she who offered to take you in her place, knowing how eager you are to get out."

Behind the door in the greenhouse, Anna was waiting impatiently for Hans. Upon entering, he noted how much this simple, almost peasant dress suited her. Without unnecessary frills and lace, everything in this picture was much more balanced; the center of the composition was the sweet princess herself, in all her touching naivety and naturalness. A true princess is beautiful not because of her clothes, and therefore any dress suits her.

"Wonderful," he said, dressed in a way that would have made him unrecognizable as a prince: frayed elbows on his jacket, a patch on his trouser pocket, and, as the crowning touch, the grayish collar of his shirt. He might not have been poor, but he was far from a crowned figure. "Come on," the young man gestured, inviting her to follow, and Anna followed him. It seemed such a familiar place, her greenhouse, the paths she had walked up and down countless times, every pebble in its place, each one placed there by her. She remembered every twig, every bud; there was nothing in this place she couldn't recognize, and yet, she had no idea where he was taking her.

She was surprised when her companion opened the door to the pantry for her, inviting her inside. When the prince lit the kerosene lamp, he locked the door and began moving the bags of soil from one corner to another. Yes, Anna had never done this before and didn't know what lay behind them. Brushing a strand of hair from his sweaty forehead, Hans surveyed the result of his labor—an empty corner.

"Here," he pointed to the boards, clearly installed later than the rest of the walls. Two boards, it turned out, were nailed only at the top, because the young man pulled out the lower ones without much effort. "Look, there's a servants' passage," he said, pushing aside one of the loose boards, revealing a dusty staircase covered in fresh boot prints.

"Aren't you afraid we'll get caught?" the princess pointed to the footprints.

"These are mine," Hans reassured her. "I pulled out these nails and replaced them so there wouldn't be any suspicion.It's a short, but terribly muddy road. It will lead us to the old fields; from there we'll go to town," he replied to his companion's dismayed look. "I agree, it's a huge detour; we'll be back before dark. You don't have to come if you don't want to."

In response to this barely perceptible hint of cowardice, Anna lifted her skirts and stepped briskly onto the first step. The old, rotting plank creaked and sagged slightly under her weight, then she dared to take the next step. The descent was short, barely taller than a man. Behind her walked the prince with a kerosene stove. When the stairs ended, they found rails beneath their feet.

"Is this a mine?" the princess inquired.

"One of the next turns does indeed lead to a mine. Elsa told me that's how your parents bought coal directly from the miners. Since the passage was blocked, you've been paying the ferryman," he explained. "If you wish, we can take a walk there, but not today."

"Well, well!" Anna marveled, looking around. "I knew our castle was ancient, but not that old! How old are these passages?" she asked, clearing another web of cobwebs out of the way. Beneath their feet was a deep layer of sand and dust, which rose with every movement, getting into their noses and eyes, irritating them unpleasantly. Besides the dust, there was also the smell of mold and moss that covered the old, dilapidated fortifications. "How much longer must we go?" the princess inquired, feeling something—a small pebble, perhaps a spider—fall onto her face again.

"The next turn is the last," the prince assured her, quickening his pace to get out before the kerosene stove ran out.

Indeed, less than half an hour had passed before the couple reached a staircase where sunlight fell through cracks in the old planks of the hatch door. The field they emerged upon looked only slightly smaller, but also abandoned, like the path leading to it. Anna expected to see farmers tilling the soil, ears of wheat, and neatly trampled paths between the rows, but the scene was completely different. Thick thickets of weeds and nettles, young willows, and here and there a few yellowing grains remained here after the man had left, and in the midst of a vast sea of ​​green, an old apple tree spread its branches. A narrow, overgrown path ran past it.

"Last time, children were playing here; they told me how to get to town," Hans said, striding confidently along the path.

Whether it was so much more pleasant to walk along the bright, beautiful road, or whether this route was much shorter than the one that lay underground, the princess didn't have time to wonder before they heard the hum of the city. The freshness of the suburbs gave way to a sharp stuffiness, and the bright, beautiful green landscapes turned into the impenetrable gray of cobblestones and stone walls.

Their first destination was the market—the place where all city life converges, where most gossip and rumors originate. Even when the king and queen were alive, Anna had never been here. All these years, she'd watched the powers that be manipulate the people, but she'd never seen these people – or the changes in their lives. Now, surrounded by so many townspeople, unnoticeable and ordinary, she couldn't understand how the pretty documents her uncle signed almost daily affected them. Many people simply couldn't read the price tags, let alone taxes, interest, or income…

Hans would occasionally stop at the counters and, glancing at the merchandise, write something down in pencil in a notebook. From the outside, it looked like he was a chef or butler in a noble house sent to replenish the food supplies. In reality, he paid no attention to the selection or the prices, instead trying to jot down every curious and not-so-curious phrase that reached his ears, so Elsa could read it later and draw her own conclusions.

"How much is the bread?" "Barley is seven orts, wheat is forty-one." "Give me the wheat while it's cheap," Hans made the first note, surprised by the buyer's strange logic. "Her Highness will soon be married, and real rulers will be on the throne"—wow, they wanted him, a visiting prince, in power more than the duke and duchess. "If they hadn't met the prince together, I'd have thought there were no princesses anymore"—monarchs, it seems, are generally disliked here.

"Young man, please the bride with a beautiful necklace," the jeweler suggested, noticing Anna examining his wares.

"No, no," she said, moving away from the display case. "No need, I just looked, I have everything."

"Forgive my sister," the prince said, looking at Anna reproachfully. "She's new to Arendelle; she's just curious." The merchant's expression changed.

He stopped when he realized he wouldn't sell them anything, and with a haughty chuckle, he returned to work.

"If you've had enough of this, let's go to the port," Hans suggested as another barker offered them something to buy. If they hadn't had to explain to the monarchs how something they shouldn't have gotten into the palace, they would have bought the necklace and many other things, of course. "The sun will be setting soon; let's admire it," he suggested.

His companion readily agreed, and the fugitives headed toward the sound of the waves. The city blocks up close no longer seemed as sweet and romantic as they had from the castle heights. Too much was hidden and blurred in that distance. From the sidewalks, they could hear shouts and arguments flaring up behind the windows, where Anna had imagined warm family idylls and beautiful stories. And the bright green streaks the girl had previously mistaken for vines turned out to be moss and mold that were destroying the houses. And the bars and taverns weren't exactly balls, but noisy, dangerous drinking parties, with fights and piles of broken crockery. Even people walking on the same side of the road often didn't speak. Her favorite story of Augustus and Augustine was now in question.

Finally, a slightly reddened sky appeared from behind the walls and rooftops, and a pleasant, moist breeze blew in her face. It even seemed to have a taste. Anna, of course, couldn't taste it; how could she know what the sea tasted like? But the seasoned sailor Hans, from the first breath, sensed salty drops, a sweet and spicy freedom like a caramel apple, and a sharp thrill, like a high wave crashing against the side of a ship, awakened in the prince as soon as he saw dozens of moored ships.

The ships rocked gently and rhythmically on the waves, the sea lulling them as it had lulled him so recently. How he longed to climb into one of them, simply stand at the stern and watch the water spread out from the sides in tiny crests, and watch how these tiny waves, compared to the real ones, dissolved one after another into the vast blue abyss. He wanted to listen to the mast creak in the strong wind. But all he could afford was skipping stones. The prince sat down on the shore, and the princess followed his example. He picked up a suitable flat stone and launched it straight down the glittering orange path of the sun. Hans picked up another stone and handed it to Anna.

Their small projectiles sent ripples across the water, slowly spreading outward and being swallowed by larger crests. The fjord grew ever more vividly pinkish-purple, and the daylight sank deeper and deeper into the water.

Elsa watched the sunset, looking out that very same window in the gallery. Although she couldn't see their faces, couldn't discern their distinct outlines, she knew exactly who those two figures on the shore were. It was foolish to be jealous of someone you'd known for less than a week — of your own sister. But the heiress understood perfectly well that even if she sent Anna off to marry somewhere far away, Hans would never forget her. Friend or not, Anna would always be closer to him. This marriage would do nothing to alleviate Elsa's loneliness.

"Your Highness, I don't seem to have pleased them very much. Do you think they'll tell me something they haven't told you?" the young man asked, surprised.

"And don't even bring it up with them. I don't want them to suspect anything," She shook her head in disappointment. "Go into the city and find out what has changed in the last three years. The palace doors are closed to me. I’m not allowed to leave without special permission," In response to the prince's question about government documents, Elsa replied, "Your Highness, these are papers. I've been studying them ever since I was told the wedding wouldn't happen anytime soon. There's only one order, but many people, and everyone has their own opinion on that order. And I haven't found any errors,"

"When's the best time for me to go into the city?"

No one in this city leads such an idle life as the Duke and Duchess. The niece rules the country, the chambermaids and tutors are busy raising the sisters, and the rulers only have to ensure their crowns don't slip. Everyone will be busy on weekdays. Even the merchants start their workday later, as there's no one to look into their shops in the morning. There are, of course, the very poor salespeople who rise much earlier than everyone else and carry orders throughout the busy capital, just to make a few coins. And then there are the wealthy merchants who work only two days a week. They sell silk, spices, jewelry—things you didn't need every day, but with one or two sales you can live comfortably for a week, with some left over for a rainy day.

"I don't think there will be a choice, but try to make it Sunday," the princess pointed out. "And now it's time for us to go to breakfast,"

Elsa put the book back, offered Hans her hand, and together they headed to the dining room. Breakfast was never interrupted by political conversations, and everyone was silent in the morning. Anna often didn't get enough sleep. There were evenings when she let out the  fireflies before midnight and left without waiting for the performance. But more often, she did everything as expected and went to bed late. Hans didn't quite understand why everyone was woken up so early, since the princesses had plenty of time to be bored before classes, and it was generally easier for cooks to sleep between lunch and dinner. Apparently, another incomprehensible requirement of the regents.

The prince much preferred eating in silence. He could calmly concentrate on his problems or simply on the taste of the food. The silence struck Hans as unusual, as it's so difficult to create when more than twenty people are sitting at the table. And this was considering that the royal family was almost never at full strength: one's child would fall ill, the wife would be unwell, or someone would be busy traveling on behalf of the king. But the dishes were almost the same as at home. Slightly different sauces and spices, but still the same fish. What could you do, life by the sea had its own peculiarities, and it didn't matter which sea.

That afternoon, the prince, as promised, went to the ballroom to give Anna a lesson. The girl was positively eager to learn. She arrived during her half-hour break before dinner, which, as she herself said, should have been spent resting from her studies. Dorothea tells her so. They get along quite well, even for a maid and mistress. The maid praised the princess, even when she struggled. The girl perfectly repeated what Hans showed her, memorizing the "polite phrases" word for word the first time. But as soon as it came to saying something of her own, she was at a loss.

Her words, her tempo, her intonation—everything betrayed her nervousness and an inability to conduct polite conversation. There was no doubt she knew how to write; she had studied rhetoric, but there was no one to practice on here, only essays and speeches to empty air. The teacher checked and graded them, Anna filed them in her notebook—that was all the conversation in this palace. Meanwhile, the things the princess sometimes said were simply unmentionable at a ball; they were indecent.

"Imagine we're chatting between dances," the prince suggested. "Dorothea, you'll need to pass by us during our conversation and pretend to offer us champagne," he turned to the maid. "So, Your Highness, the ball is organized to the highest standard; I haven't seen such chic in a long time," he nodded, indicating it was her turn to speak.

"Thank you, Auntie and Uncle have done a great job! It's been so long since we've heard music here; if it weren't for you, I would have died of boredom," Anna covered her mouth, realizing she'd said too much.

"It would be more appropriate to talk about the wines or appetizers at the party, rather than about yourself and your family. You'll be interacting with a variety of people, many of whom will come to negotiate trade and political treaties with Arendelle. There's no point in emphasizing that you don't have a king and queen or drawing attention to the country's isolation. Elsa won't thank you," Hans patted Anna's shoulder in a familiar tone, reassuring her. "Don't worry, it's not a bad start; you're not silent. Let's continue," the prince commanded when his student was ready. He beckoned toward Dorothea. "Allow me to treat you, Your Highness,"

"Of course! I’d love to!" She made a vague circular gesture with her hand. "That is... Yes, thank you," she raised an imaginary glass to eye level, looked closely, and inhaled the aroma. "This is one of the finest local wines. They're not easy to produce here, so they have a unique flavor, a unique, mellow richness. You won't find wines like these anywhere else," Anna smiled and raised her glass, inviting her companion to share a drink.

"Excellent!" the prince praised. "You learn from your mistakes, and very quickly. Now let's go, don't be late for lunch,"

Anna stopped smiling for a moment. Her joy was over, her only interesting lesson was over, and she would have to return to the dreary routine of the palace. But her usual polite smile immediately adorned her face again when the prince suggested the time for the next lesson. The chamberlain rose from the piano and joined the others at the exit.

Lunch was as boring as Hans's two previous meals in this palace. Elsa was discussing trade with her guardians, Anna was lost in the clouds, so thoughtful and sweet, no one paid her any attention, and that suited her. The prince was willing to bet she was imagining the upcoming ball or dreaming up future dialogues. It was so boring in this palace that the prince simply couldn't sit still. He finished the first meal, even though his upbringing forbade him from getting up and leaving, but he knew where he would go as soon as he left the dining room.

There was only one thing in this world as noisy as his home and as calm as the castle in Arendelle — and its noise alone could soothe him. And no castle he had ever visited could compare to its grandeur. Every castle had a king, a count, or a duke. The sea, however, would not tolerate such disrespect and obeyed no one; it swallowed into its bottomless blue maw all who were foolish enough to compete with it. The sea loves precision: when the sails are raised precisely on command, without a second's hesitation; when the captain's hand grips the wheel like stone, without a single tremor; when the sailors line up neatly on the deck, like a company of children's toy soldiers aligned along the joints of the parquet floorboards.

After all, to the vast water, people were nothing more than tiny toys. It lulled sailors with the gentle slap of small waves against the ship. It smashed unwanted toys to splinters and left the fragments to drift through the endless expanses for years, and the sea fed the little human dolls to the fish. And Hans loved this game. On land, he's a prince before whom heads bow, but at sea, he's a mere red speck on a vast blue canvas. But this dot wasn't confined by walls; this dot was free to turn the helm as it pleased and be wherever it chose.

This game, this thrill of mortal danger and the freedom that played like a salty wind in his hair, always attracted the prisoner of the marble prison. He was always ready to lower the sails and sail into any storm, meekly surrendering himself to the power of the elements.

It was precisely this thrill that brought him to that same gallery to admire the elements. This time, he wasn't alone. Another person had been drawn to this very place by a thirst for freedom and solitude. Princess Elsa sat by the window, rummaging through something in her jewelry box.

"Your Highness," the prince addressed her. She immediately closed the box and tucked it into her dress pocket. "Aren't you having a lesson?" 

"Anna has hers now, our breaks don't overlap," the heiress explained. "Come on," the girl said, turning to the maid.

"Please stay," the prince interrupted. "It's rare to find a kindred spirit. Does the sea also calm you?"

The princess explained that she sometimes grew tired of sitting in her room and of her lessons , looking at the same walls day after day, always counting the same number of fruits in the paintings. She wanted to see how life went, how people went about their business, each in their own direction, how the weather changed, how the waves washed up on the shore one after another. And so they both looked out the same window, at the same fjord, but they saw two different scenes. He saw freedom, peace, grandeur. She saw bustle, simplicity, life.

"Why do you and your sister have breaks at different times?" the prince inquired.

"To make it harder for someone to catch us together and harm us both at once," the girl replied, hesitating slightly, as if considering what to say.

"Isn't it enough to always have closed doors and a guard?" he asked, surprised.

"We must do everything we can to ensure this doesn't happen again, Your Highness," Her voice became stern and distant. "Anna was in grave danger, and we simply have no right to expose her to that again," The princess adjusted her glove.

It seemed to Hans that her younger sister and the palace guards weren't Elsa's favorite topics. She tensed up, and she was always so reserved, as if she were afraid of something and trying to hide — hands in her pockets, gaze lost somewhere in the waters of the bay, thoughts dwelling in the past. Like a trapped doe, she searched with her eyes for an escape route, at least mentally. She looked at the passersby and imagined herself in their shoes. She was the baker's daughter with a sack of apples for tomorrow's pies. She was an old flower seller, earning money to buy sweets for her grandchildren. Anyone — anything — as long as she wasn't Princess Elsa.

"Would you like to try running away with me on Sunday?" the prince suggested, seeing his betrothed's soul yearning to be free.

"No need," she continued, just as distantly. "And it won't work. You can't leave the palace without Auntie's personal permission. She'll let you go, but not me," the princess said. "But that's for the best, believe me, I'm safer in the palace," she added after a short pause.

"How do you know?" Hans asked, trying to reassure her. "You probably haven't been free for years, right?"

"Suggest it to Anna; she'll be happy to agree," the eldest heiress firmly refused.

Hans found it strange that she was letting her sister go so easily. They'd locked the gates for her sake, rearranged their schedules so that the princesses could only see each other under the supervision of their elders, and now Elsa was so easily offering to take her to the city, as if she'd be as safe there as here. The prince wanted to ask another question, but she would not have answered; she was already haunted by the memories of that day. Someday, when they were closer, when they trusted each other more, she would tell him what happened, but for now, it was best to leave her alone.

"Yes, I have," Hans couldn't take his eyes off this wondrous predator.

"And what was it like? " the princess persisted, barely paying attention to the hunt unfolding before their eyes." How can you get used to this? You can't see anything like it anywhere else: it glows and kills!

"It was boring. When my older brother got married, I was thinking about not going. My father made me," the prince gradually joined the conversation.

"But I've never been. Only as a young girl, but a ball in childhood isn't a ball, it was a game. I don't know how I’ll survive this week before your ball, I’m just waiting, I’m afraid my heart will  jump out first," she was delighted with her expectations. 

"I’m even glad it’ll stick around. Your sister, probably like you, didn't know these subtleties, but balls in honor of a guest's arrival were never held on the very day of arrival. The guest needs to rest and recover. A week was a bit much, of course, but I’m even glad: I’m so tired of all this tinsel, you have no idea. I have twelve older brothers, parents, six nephews and myself, everyone has birthdays, weddings, anniversaries. Not a single month of the year passes peacefully. There was no month, no week without all this noise. And we, the five youngest, were also obliged to appear at the count’s balls on behalf of the royal family," Hans explained in response to the surprised look of his interlocutor.  "We don’t participate in government affairs. There were already enough rulers in my family.”

"I can't even imagine how you can get tired of dancing. I dream about your social life," Anna marveled. 

"When I become king, I’ll make you responsible for the balls, if you want," he grinned. 

"I want to, but Elsa could  do it better. She has teachers for organizing everything in the world: from trade negotiations to military associations. I am being trained to be an assistant – taught shorthand, etiquette, like an ordinary count’s daughter, I can't even carry on a conversation at dinner. Where can I do anything on behalf of the kingdom?" the princess babbled upset. 

"Ballroom etiquette is almost no different from ordinary etiquette. If you want, we can review the basics this week,” the prince suggested, noting that for her this social tinsel was as important as the sea for him.

The girl's eyes lit up. She nodded energetically and, inspired by the quick fulfillment of her dream, began to go through all the tunes she would like to dance to, enthusiastically telling how they would look at her when she opened the ball. 

"Not you, Your Highness," the prince upset her. "The ball is opened by the host and hostess, that is, your uncle and aunt. And it must always be a waltz, and you described a quadrille. 

“Well, I have a lot to learn. When?" the prince answered by telling the time. "Agreed – in the evening in the ballroom. Now it was probably time to go," Anna looked at the maid, who said that it was twenty minutes to one.

"Last question. Why didn't you have balls? Why were the doors always closed?" Hans was curious. 

"Better ask your sister. In the mornings she was usually in the library. Or later, after breakfast. I’m not really involved in the affairs of the castle," she added confusedly. "Just like in everything else.”

And yet this girl was his mirror image. Finally finding a kindred spirit, albeit on the opposite bank from my father's house, was in itself a sufficient reason to rejoice at the move. To achieve complete happiness, all he now needed was to get along with his bride and learn the local unspoken rules. Most often they concern the illegitimate children of the owners of the castle, at least in the noble houses he visited, everyone knew who to treat and get along with. Sometimes the cook's son decided more in the palace than the eldest heir, simply because he was the count's favorite child. The power of such children, although strong, was not demonstrated to the court. Everyone simply knew who was whispering in the owner's ear and with what interests.

But there were not many young people in this palace for any of them to be the illegitimate son of the rulers. Actually, such people could be counted on one hand: Hans himself, the sisters, Dorothea and one guy, and those who carried the plates at dinner. And then, the last two, although they looked young, were older than the rest. Apparently no servants had been hired here since the gates had been closed. They came to the castle as teenagers running errands; some were able to make their way into maids, while others remained at the distribution desk. In any case, here the unspoken rules concerned the regents. Surely there were a huge number of prohibitions introduced by them.

In the morning, as Anna said, Hans found Elsa in the library. She was immersed in reading some thick book, which, apparently, she had already finished. The princess looked tense, as always, but this time not because of the need to communicate, but because of the complexity of the material. She was so focused that she hardly moved. Life in her was revealed only by eye movements along the lines. 

"Your Highness, may I distract you?" Hans cleared his throat and asked. 

"Yes. What did you want?" the heiress responded sternly and laconically. 

"Find out why there was such secrecy," the prince smiled. 

"Well. Quite a long time ago, my sister was put in great danger. To prevent anything like this from happening again, only certain people were allowed to enter the castle," Elsa answered the question and picked up the book again, "If that is all, I’ll go back to studying.”

"Is this why she has a white streak in her hair?" Hans was already thinking of being offended by his interlocutor’s isolation, but after reading the title of the book, he realized that she really shouldn’t have been distracted. 

"Yes, but she doesn’t remember it. She was just a child," Elsa answered, looking out for the place where she stopped. 

“Are you doing this yourself? What were you going to draft?" the eldest of his brothers also studied state documentation, but he limited himself to drawing up maps of trade routes. 

"Consent to our wedding. You see, my aunt and uncle are supposed to confirm it, but they won't. I'm looking for legal loopholes. There must be something," she said without taking her eyes off the textbook. 

"And why?" The prince raised his eyebrows in surprise. 

"Their services will no longer be needed. I don't know why they need power that they don't know how to manage, but they’re not going to let it go," the girl muttered sharply and irritably. 

Gunter hadn't had to calm drunken gentlemen in a long time. Not since the castle gates had been locked and the noisy ball and receptions had ended. Back then, in his prime, he could knock even the most boisterous and corpulent nobleman onto his bed. And now, aging and having lost his former grip, what could he do? Except obey the prince's orders and lead him to the greenhouse. He had never been praised for that before. Servants also have their moments when they rule the roost. They, the sober and sensible ones must protect their masters from drunken follies. For this, they were praised and rewarded with expensive trinkets. But indulging one's drunken whims always had consequences the next morning. No noble drinker liked to deal with the consequences of their exploits.

However, it was easy to calm someone who had never lifted anything heavier than a stack of papers. But a young sailor who could  hold an entire ship’s course in a storm isn't so easy to put to sleep. And obeying him now would be more expensive. But there was nothing to be done: Princess Elsa might have to find another suitor, but that would be her problem, not Gunther's. His master would simply become engaged to someone else, and he would still need a servant in Arendelle.

"Let's go already," the prince said confidently, as if pulling himself together. 

Despite Gunther being worried, he had no impropriety in mind about the younger princess. Yes, the girl was beautiful, sweet, and lively, but he understood perfectly well that he was engaged. And in Anna, he saw himself in the recent past and the fleeting present. He certainly wasn't in the habit of spending nights in the greenhouse fertilizing the plants, but, just like now, he could spend hours gazing out the window at the sea or strolling along the port. This was a trait of all lonely children—they found something to which they became attached and drew from it the emotions they lacked. Anna longed to be needed, so she came up with the idea of ​​helping the gardener. Hans longed to be understood, and found reflection in the raging elements.

He was interested in seeing himself from the outside, but even more so in becoming her friend, in helping her, in showing her that she wasn't the only one trapped in a gilded cage. He wanted to prove to himself that things weren't so bad. If he could help Anna, then his situation wasn't hopeless either. After all, his future wife was well versed in state affairs, and he was doing a good job of pretending to be interested. Perhaps that was all that was required of him, and as a king, he would be occupied with the navy and maritime exploration.

The servant tried to grab his master by the elbow, but he pulled his hand away and strode almost confidently toward the door. He refused to accept help even on the stairs. Gunther’s thoughts alternated between: "This proud peacock would  fall, and it would  be my fault," and he rolled his eyes; "A young man in love would not show an ounce of weakness before the lady of his heart," and he smiled indulgently and shook his head, recalling his younger years.

"I thought you weren't coming," Anna said, surprised, standing with her maid at the entrance.

"How could I, Your Highness? " the prince smiled politely.

"Then let’s go. I've missed feedings for several nights, and he was already waiting," The guards swung the doors open, and all four entered the greenhouse.

The entire room was bathed in the soft, dim light of small lanterns standing in rows along the paths. They barely illuminated the path, merely serving as landmarks to keep them on track and allowing them to see plants no more than a meter away. Light from the full moon shone through the glass ceiling, adding a mystical, evocative, and romantic charm to the garden. It was as if they were wandering the ocean floor, in a sunken ancient city, its walls overgrown with green coral, and the light was provided by mermaids or other fantastical inhabitants of the uncharted depths. The colorful flowers had retreated into their buds for the night, making the plants even more reminiscent of the moss and seaweed-covered walls of underwater structures.

Anna, walking ahead of them, looked thoughtful and dreamy, like the prince himself. She also looked around, taking in all the beauty of the sublunar garden, as if for the first time. But Hans was here for the first time at night, and the princess simply had a keen sense of beauty and a natural ability to savor it. The prince followed behind. He tried to notice his companion's every movement, but it was difficult in the semi-darkness. When she turned her head, he followed, and more often than not, his gaze would stumble upon something insanely beautiful, standing out from the landscape. Something that only someone who knew the greenhouse like the back of their hand could point out in such conditions. Now, it was clear how dear it was to the princess. Hans wouldn't have been surprised to learn that Anna gave its inhabitants names.

They walked the same path they had taken an hour before dinner. The fountain, which had seemed bright and magical the previous time, now resembled a mysterious wishing well from ancient tales and legends. Instead of colorful water phials, it was decorated with glittering ripples from the surrounding lanterns and the reflection of the night sky. Here they met for the first time, here no one made any demands on him, no one demanded anything, no one offended his sailors. Here they simply spoke to him, as an equal, as a friend. For now, this was the most welcoming place in the castle for Hans, even though it now looked so gloomy.

"We've arrived," Anna said, stopping by the gazebo. During the day, there was nothing unusual about it, just an ordinary ivy-covered canopy. But now it was simply unimaginably beautiful: cool white rays of light filtered through the vines, as if a lamp were burning there. But it wasn't a firelight. It had a blue tint, like distant stars in the sky; it was right there, this strange starlight.

"Gunter, you're not coming," the princess said, pointing to his shiny silver cufflinks.

"What could happen, Your Highness? " he asked, although he knew perfectly well it wasn't so much the cufflinks that were the issue, but the fact that the princess hadn't wanted to talk about something in front of him.

"You're fine, you'll get off with a mild case of poisoning, but he'll get sick from not being able to catch his prey," Anna explained.

"Will he want to eat you?" the chamberlain asked worriedly.

"Not us, but the firefly he'll mistake them for," she said, nodding at the servant's jewelry." Dorothea was coming with us, so don't worry," the princess reassured.

The three entered the gazebo. It was as bright as day. As Anna had said, even stranger flowers had bloomed on this strange plant. While Dorothea pulled something from her dress pocket, and the princess explained that the late king had brought it back from one of his travels, Hans couldn't tear his eyes away from the tiny, rowan-berry-sized flowers, shimmering with a magical glow, emitting a cosmic light that filled the entire space beneath the canopy. The princess opened the jar handed to her by the maid, and a swarm of fireflies flew out. It seemed Hans was about to witness the most unusual hunt of his life: a glowing fern would somehow catch other glowing insects.

The air smelled bitter, as if someone had spilled tincture of wormwood. The princess explained that this was how the plant intoxicated its prey. This was not dangerous to the nurses; it poisoned the prey directly, not just into the air, but directly at the victim; the doses that humans inhaled were harmless. It was truly frightening: with each firefly that strayed and settled on a glittering flower, the air grew more and more bitter.