Princess Anna sits on the left side of the throne, perking the hem of her dress as she looks longingly out the window. “Look dad,” she says.
King Jonathan turns from his negotiation with his counsellor. “Anna, we've talked about this. There's no reason for that window to be there.” He points to the glass pane behind them. “And it's been that way for almost a hundred years.”
Anna's shoulders lower. “I know, but I've never seen the sea. It's just a little window, why would it matter?”
Jonathan sighs. “We've been over this a thousand times. No human has made it past that window since the-“ he looks around at all the faces staring at him. “Since the war happened a hundred years ago.”
Anna already knows about the war. She learned about it in school, and then again when she met the old, aged veterans that line the town walls. Their stories of the horrors of those humans are always told with a sense of longing and most say they'd rather not speak of it.
After a moment, Jonathan points back to the counsellor. “And what was that?”
“We're low on fine flax,” she says. “It's one of our two main exports. How many people is it going to take? We only have twenty-two people, and you're not going to want to send fifteen-”
“Just cut their rations down by ten percent until our flax fields can be re-sown,” he says. As the counsellor tries to argue, he cuts in again. “No, we are not going to lower everyone's rations. That is my final decision.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Jonathan permits her to leave, though he feels terrible about it. It is not that he does not love his daughter - but Jonathan is now king, and he must make these decisions for his people, who voted him in. He must make these decisions for his own daughter as well - because Jonathan knows he cannot let Anna starve to death.
A few days later, Jonathan receives a report: “Your Majesty,” says a voice over the intercom. “The tunnels have been found, but it's too dark in them. We don't even know how far we are.”
King Jonathan believes in the power of the sun. When the sun is visible in the sky, the crops flourish and the livestock thrive. If they send a load of flax down these tunnels, they might as well be sending their princess's life down them. And so Jonathan curses himself for agreeing to send the women and children down the dungeons.
Anna sits in her room, scowling. “I know that, Dad,” she says to the window. “But how can we get them out?”
Anna thinks about it for days, terming it an idea from her teacher. “It might work,” she says, “If it's really dark, and we have flashlights, we could make fire from the candles, and then light the candles to make it easier.”
Jonathan looks at his daughter and shakes his head. “That is such a fool's dream that you don't even need candles. Light a torch and nobody will be able to see it, not even if it's in the middle of the night. It's impossible. Let's just send down more people and make the tunnels wider. We'll add an extra floor of flax to the load.”
“Perhaps,” Anna says. “But what if the war didn't happen? What if we never lost that battle?” Lucy and Lindsay, who are present in the room, do not know what she's talking about. Thankfully, Jonathan doesn't either.
This is the first time Anna has spoken in the chamber where the king sits in his throne, and it makes Jonathan sit up a little straighter. “The king is dead,” he says. “He doesn't have to answer.”
Anna clenches her teeth. “No, it's... if he was alive now, he'd-”
She's cut off by Jonathan who firecracks his hand on his desk. “So he could tell us what to do? I am king and my word is law.”
Anna looks down at the floor.
After a moment, she raises her head. “We could go out of the castle, Dad. We could sneak out and go up to a little hill. It's not far - just past where they're digging the tunnels. We could throw rocks down on them from there.”
Jonathan sits back again, whether from realising how ridiculous this is or from being shocked by the suggestion. “That... that is a little better.”
He thinks about it. He imagines himself standing next to his daughter, chuckling as they watch the prisoners struggle and swear and swear they'll never do it again - because the king's daughter, daughter, is standing right next to his majesty.
Jonathan decides on taking the risk, and sends Anna back to her room with a message to her teacher that she's thinking about grades: “So she's grounded again, eh?” Lindsay says.
“Yeah - I'm sorry. It's just, Anna is all I have, you know?”
“Yeah.” Lindsay rests her head on her chest. “She's a good kid, too.”
Four days later, just as the sun sets, the king walks past the throne room and when he sees that it's empty, he enters for a moment. "Aww, Anna," he says, placing his hands on the back of his chair and leaning out of the window. He looks towards the small hill in the distance, about seven miles away. ”You could see pretty much the whole town from up there. The lighthouse and the large waterwheel. Probably took her, what, ten minutes? Fifteen?”
He sighs and walks to the door. As he's heading out, he turns around and goes to the window. "When you get home, find out how they did it. Promise me you'll do that.”
Anna looks back at him and nods.
In Anna's room, the candles have been lit. The flax is gone, and the few remaining people are left waiting.
Jonathan walks up the path, his stomach tied in knots. As he approaches the hill, he sees that it is a small series of rocks. Above them, the sun is now setting.
Jonathan closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them again, he stares down into the wide tunnel that leads below. It's pitch black, but soon the torch will be lit, and then everyone will lose their way.
“Incoming.”
Jonatan turns and sees his daughter in the distance. Anna is wearing black and has a bow in her hand. He takes a few steps forward and Anna drops a torch down.
“Thank you,” he says. Anna nods and walks back to the village.
Jonatan walks to the edge of the hill and looks into the tunnel.
“That doesn't look too bad,” he says. “Still, it's not a good idea to use flax today.” He looks down at the torch and when he sees that it's burning fast, he sighs and tosses it.
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