It began like any typical day.
The sun was out, the palace was alive, and I had just mastered the fine art of drooling without wetting my shirt. But something was... amiss.
I was bored.
Deadly bored.
The kind of bored where even my most melodramatic diaper tricks didn't thrill me. I required adventure. Purpose. A reason to stretch my hardly-there baby muscles.
And then, like a whispered blessing from above, I heard it:
I must see my mother.
You know. The evil shame of the empire. Who's currently hanging out in the least tourist-y part of the palace: the Cold Palace™. Aka the royal basement where you shove family secrets.
I'd never met her, not since my birth. I didn't know anything about her except rumors at the palace and the melodramatic history that I dimly recalled from the book. But still... she was my mom. And I had some questions.
Also, I was kind of wondering if she had cheekbones like me.
So, as any rational baby with no crawling skills and awful decision-making abilities, I thought I'd sneak out.
Mission: Cold Palace
Status: In Progress (Barely)
Let me tell you something: crawling is hard. I had idealized it—imagined I'd be like one of those infamous baby heroes in books who just disappear.
Reality?
It was pretty much me face-planting on marble and scooting backward by mistake.
But did I let that discourage me?
Absolutely yes. Several times.
I napped a lot. Like, every ten feet a lot.
There I was, a top-of-the-line royal baby with a covert agenda, dramatic power napping in miscellaneous corridors like some teeny tiny noble vagabond. The floor was chilly. The world was huge. I drooled on old rugs. It was okay.
In the meantime, the palace was in an uproar.
Apparently, when the maids arrived to bring me in for my morning cuddle time and discovered nothing but an empty crib and a suspiciously quiet room, they went crazy.
Screaming. Running. Prayers to all deities. I heard it all.
"The princess is missing!" "She's been kidnapped!" "Check the moat!" "She couldn't have crawled out—could she?" "...has anyone looked under the bed?"
Nobody thought to look down the hall.
Classic mistake.
At last, after what had seemed an odyssey (in reality approximately ten minutes, two dozes, and a short snack pause to gnaw on a tassel from the tapestry), I reached the taboo corridor.
The door to the Cold Palace.
It was large. It was ominous. It had gravitas.
You could almost hear the wretched history resonating in the air.
I was almost there.
Oh so nearly there.
And then... I fainted.
Right there. In front of the doors to the Cold Palace.
Drool puddle and all.
I woke up to the sound of someone dramatically gasping for air and a whirl of footsteps.
A maid picked me up as if I was a national treasure and began to sob. Someone shouted something about the "blessed heavens" and "how did she even arrive here?" and "does she have teleportation magic?!"
Meanwhile, I simply blinked at them like a baby who absolutely did not just crawl halfway across the palace due to a gut feeling and motherly curiosity.
They brought me back, swaddled me in twelve blankets, and stationed four guards outside my nursery door.
But still...
I had come close.
Next time, I'd succeed.
And perhaps, just perhaps...
She'd be waiting for me.