Sioni Bod Da

        The queen looked out from the bed. Her chambers hadn’t changed much over the years. The same table, vanity, bed and drapery. A few new shelves for books were added and quickly filled with tomes and notebooks and diaries, but they were changed out frequently.

        Well maybe not that frequently. Not anymore.

Elsa reached over to the end table, clutching at a small box that sat there. She always kept it there right next to a small framed photo of her family. She smiled at it, almost as if she’d not seen it before. It was a small recreation of their family portrait. Anna and herself excited and scared, and their parents smiling and proud. She pulled the box away from the table.

She sighed as she held the small wooden thing in her lap.

He’d made it for her. Kristoff. It was one of her most prized possessions. The sides were carved with vines and flowers and snowflakes, then a layer of knotting above that, and another layer of flowers. The top had carved into it two girls riding horses. She’d watched him make it; he told her it was her and Anna.

        Elsa ran her hands over the top, faint memories fluttering through her mind and the smell of ice and snow took her back. Anna and Kristoff had insisted, begged nearly, for her to come along. They’d gone up into the mountains for a weekend, and Kristoff finally showed both of them how he set about harvesting all that ice. Saws and picks and clamps, claws and all manner of iron wrought instruments were laid out. Kristoff directing both girls on what to do.

        The queen laughed, remembering Anna being unable to push the saw into the ice, nor pull it out once Kristoff and helped her. Not that she’d done much better. It took her nearly thirty swings to break one of the oversized ice blocks Kristoff had given her. He’d done it in one. It was always fascinating to both girls, watching him work. It had been a wonderful night that night. And the one after.

        Another heavy sigh but Elsa smiled at it as she came back from the little dream. Her thumbs rubbed against the front, almost lifting the lid. She hesitated, and as she did a knock came from her chamber door.

        “Yes?”

        “Your grace, you said you didn’t wish to be disturbed but the princess would like to speak to you.”

        “Yes, just…” she looked down at the box, “I’ll call when I’m ready.”

        “As you say, your highness.”

The queen could hear the soft footsteps fall away. They wouldn’t need to be by the door anymore, the castle had some pulley system installed some time ago. Now the queen could simply pull a cord and a maid or a butler would be at her door inside of a minute for anything she needed. She looked around again, foolishly. No one was here. No one but her.

        She opened the box and tinny notes filled the room but as they played on they became clear and sharp, the feeling of ice in the air on a winter morning, a rainbow of color all in one shining light. Each note reminded her more of things long past. Friends she’d had, family she’d welcomed into the house and into the world. Days and nights of playing in the snow, the laughter of sisters at the fuddy duddy housemaids. Playing pranks on the butlers. Even the screaming of arguments and the sadness of rejection came back with a rosy hue.

        Elsa was never sure if it was the music itself that was sad, or just her own melancholic memories. But it was music that said the world had come and gone and you were still there. You were still there and you weren’t done yet.

        Under the hinged lid, laden under glass, was a photo, one of the first ones the royal family ever had. Elsa sat in the center and over her left shoulder was Anna, and her right, Kristoff. Her most dearest friends and family. At her feet sat a little girl and two little boys, Anna’s children. They looked so young while Elsa’s friends looked so old. Elsa could feel the small streams down her cheeks.

        The music faded and the room sighed with the queen. As with opening the music box, she hesitated at closing it, fear of the memories being gone gripping her as they always did. Slowly the lid came down. If she ever needed them again they would be at her bed side, waiting.

        She pulled at a golden cord beside her bed and when the maid came she asked for the princess.

Moments later the door opened again and the crowned princess walked in. She had a strong chin, like her father, but she’d gotten her mother’s nose and eyes, it made for a rather handsome face. Her hair was a dirty blond that she kept in wavy girls that cascaded down her back. She wasn’t the little girl in the photo anymore, she was nearly 21. Elsa might have her coronated next year. The princess smiled and to Elsa it was like she had gotten to see Anna one more time.

        “Auntie,” she said with a curtsy.

        “Johanna, I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”