Once upon a time, there was a city ruled by three sister princesses. They were much-loved in their kingdom- the eldest with eyes of brightest blue, the middle with lips of sweetest pink, and the youngest with hair of deepest red. They were incredibly close, acting as each other’s friends and confidantes. They were just, and kind, able to balance the people and keep the peace in their land.
For a time, all was well.
And then it wasn’t.
Mother?
Shh.
A neighboring kingdom, jealous of this city’s prosperity and peace, sought to disrupt it. They dragged to its gates hideous war machines, made of magic and steel and human skin. The king, a man of great magical learning and power, demanded the princesses surrender their city to him, and if they did not, he said, he would raze it to the ground.
Mother, I’ve never heard of this story.
Then listen when I tell it to you.
The youngest daughter, when she heard, did up her deep red hair, put on a delicate crown, and clothed herself in a beautiful dress. “I will offer him an alliance,” she told her sisters. “I will give him my hand in marriage for our kingdom’s safety.”
The other sisters wept, understanding the sacrifice that their youngest was making, and held her close until dawn. They saw her off at the castle gates, and watched until she disappeared into the still city.
When the youngest daughter reached the enemy’s camp, she stood tall, and did not show her fear. She spoke kindly to the weary soldiers, curtsied before the cruel sorcerer-king as custom demanded. She was brave, oh, my darling, she was so brave.
And the king spat at her fine words, and spoke the words that drew all the light from out of her, until she went mad with despair. As the sun set on the day, and on the youngest sister, who lay despondent in the middle of the camp, a soldier came upon her, and killed her in a fit of mercy.
But you said that she was brave.
Yes. She was.
When the other sisters heard, the middle sister donned silver armor, borrowed from the guards in the castle, and took up a crossbow. “I go to kill the king,” she said. “I go to avenge our youngest.”
And the eldest held her close, and wept, until she let her go and watched her disappear from sight into the streets.
When the middle sister arrived at the camp, she moved quietly, looking through the tents with eyes and a heart made cold with fury and grief. She reached the king’s tent- asleep, inside was the enemy, and she raised her crossbow to finish the job. And she would have, darling, she would have, had she not seen, hanging from the post of the kings fine bed, her sister’s delicate crown.
The king awoke when she sobbed at the sight of it, and spoke words that caused her to wither and decay where she stood, crumbling to rotted remains inside a suit of armor.
Mother, I don’t like this story.
You must hear it.
The eldest sister heard the news and she did not weep. She drew her courage about her, and set off into the forest to find her and her sister’s mother, who was a powerful witch.
Her mother answered the door and bade her come inside, offering her condolences about her sister’s fates. Once the door had closed, her mother hesitated, then spoke.
“I left you in that castle long ago, and I will give you your answers, and then I will give you your vengeance against the king.”
And so the daughter listened.
Mother, I don’t want to hear this.
Listen, daughter.
Long ago, there had been a queen with great magickal abilities, but she was never able to find a love, so she used those powers to create three daughters.
One, she formed from a bottle of light captured at the sun’s violent surrender to night. It woke last, a child with beautiful red hair, and so it was the youngest.
One, she shaped from a gentle pink anemone, the last in her castle’s courtyard to survive winter’s onslaught. It woke second, a child with curved pink lips, and so it was the middle.
One, she carved from a piece of sapphire the size of her fist, and as she did, she cut her finger with the blade, so it was made with blood, as well. It woke immediately, with bright blue eyes, so it was the eldest.
The sun took her first child home, she told the sapphire-girl. Her body turned to light, and then to nothing, what it always was. The body of her second daughter rotted in the encampment like a flower decayed beyond its lifespan. “All the king can do is turn you back to what you were before,” she told her daughter. “He will turn you back to stone if you are unprotected.”
She gave her daughter a vial full of black liquid. “This will turn your heart forever to sapphire. The king will be unable to change you- but you will never feel again. No blade shall pierce your skin, but no joy or grief will stir within you. You will never be warm, or cold. I offer you not immortality, but a half-life of invincibility.”
The daughter regarded the vial, and uncorked it. She brought it to her lips, but before she drank, she asked her mother, “Why did you leave us?”
And then she swallowed, so she would not care about the response, and she left her mother in her home before she found the answer.
But why did their mother leave them?
Because she knew, daughter, even then, that her eldest child was capable of committing this act, and she was afraid.
The eldest daughter marched to the encampment, and to the kings tent. She was attacked, but nothing drew blood, and so she went forward. The king, upon seeing her, spoke the words that would have crumbled her to so many sapphire shards, but nothing happened.
She pulled out the king’s heart through his armor, and she felt no relief at having killed him.
She felt nothing.
The end.
Mother?
Mother, that can’t be how the story ends.
Mother, that is not how the story ends.
Do you want another ending?
Yes.
Very well, then.
The people saw what their queen had done, and began to fear her. The queen, unable to feel love or even affection, went back to her mother to find a way to make a child that her people would adore, because, without emotion, she saw that that was what they needed.
The child was made of ice over a pond, and her hair was the orange-white color of the fish, still alive in the cold.
And the queen raised her daughter to love the kingdom, to rule well, and to one day overthrow her mother.
hey gyns let me plug a book for a second. its a childhood favorite of mine, but its also one of the best fairy tale books for little girls, imho. its called ‘the serpent slayer: and other stories of strong women’, and its a collection of fairy tales from around the world whose main characters are women. some of my favorite stories from it include:
neesowa and the chenoo – when an injured chenoo (an evil, cannibalistic monster) stumbles upon neesowa’s camp, she throws the monster off balance by treating him with kindness and sharing her home with him as he recovers, which pays off when another chenoo attacks her camp.
grandmother skull – a young woman, neruvana, marries a man who kills her entire family and abandons her. thankfully, the skull of her grandmother comes to life to teach her how to survive and to help her get revenge.
beebyeebyee and the water god – a young woman, beebyeebyee, falls in love with a water god who is slain by the envious people of her village. she gets revenge.
three whiskers from a lions chin – maria wants to help her husband, who returned from war a changed man, and the local bruja sends her off to get three whiskers from a lions chin, apparently a key ingredient in a magic spell that will bring her husband back to himself. when she brings the whiskers back to the bruja, the woman explains that there is no magic spell, but that with time, and the same patience she used to get the whiskers, she can help her husband recover.
the old woman and the devil – a brilliant old woman faces off with the devil in a bet to convince him to leave her spot in the shade. she outwits him, and undoes the harm he did as well.
duffy the lady – a version of rumplestiltskin where a housekeeper who cant knit or spin accepts a deal with a devil who will do the tasks for her for three years, if she will marry him at the end of the three years if she cannot guess his name. spoiler alert: she can.
sister lace – a creation myth about the stars, when the emperor hears of sister lace’s incredible lace-making abilities, he has her brought to the palace and ordered to marry him. when she refuses, he has her imprisoned unless she can spin him a live rooster. her skill and blood bring the bird to life, but she remains imprisoned, until, eventually, she finds her way out.
a marriage of two masters – a very intelligent young woman who speaks only in riddles meets a man who sees the world the same way, and as they decipher one anothers riddles, they fall in love.
clever marcella – marcella, a genius, fascinates the prince, and they agree to marry, provided she not interfere with his rule. when she feels compelled to challenge a ridiculous ruling he made on a case, he orders her to take whatever she likes from the palace and then leave. she solves the problem as anyone in love would, compels the prince to see the error of his ways, and becomes the kingdoms chief justice.
the rebel princess – to escape an unwanted arranged marriage, judith and her ladies-in-waiting take to the open sea. when they come across a ship of pirates who decide they will each marry one of the women, the crew steal their clothes, their treasure, and their lives. by the end of the story, judith has been crowned king in place of an heir-less king who drowned.
its just a really, really good book, with a portrayal of women that most fairy tales dont have. theyre kind and wise mentors and teachers, not wicked stepmothers and ugly hags, and an undeveloped marriage to a man isnt their be-all and end-all. i really encourage you to get a copy for any little girls in your life, especially who enjoy fairy tales.
Sounds awesome!
THE ILLUSTRATOR IS TRINA SCHART HYMAN WHO WAS A FANTASTICALLY COOL LADY THAT YOU SHOULD READ ABOUT AND ADMIRE AS MUCH AS I GREW UP DOING AND WHO PROBABLY DESERVES HER OWN WONDERFULLY ILLUSTRATED FAIRY TALE
Cinderella “plot holes” I am tired of hearing about
“Why didn’t her step family recognize her?” Because royal balls were basically the candle lit equivalent of clubbing in terms of both lighting and sheer numbers. Even if they were right next to her, they probably wouldn’t get a good look, especially since it would have started after sundown. Also, she was the help; they probably hadn’t looked at her in years.
“Looking for someone based on their shoe size is stupid!” See above.
“Was he going to have every size seven in the kingdom try the slipper on?” Prior to industrialization most garments were made by hand to fit the buyer’s measurements, including shoes. It’s why poor people only had one pair. It’s a lot smarter when you consider that they would’ve fit her like a glove.
“You can’t run down stairs in heels!” I know this is a misconception resulting from historical revisionism and disneyfication, but high heels were not originally women’s shoes. They were worn by men. Women wore slippers, which were basically ballet flats. So it’s debatable.
“Glass shoes don’t make any sense!” Okay first of all, it’s called the suspension of disbelief, and secondly, they’re gold in every other version but Perrault decided to change them to something else expensive.
“She just went to the ball to find a man!” I know this isn’t a plot hole but listen. As the daughter of a widower Cinderella would’ve been running the household finances and acting as hostess if he hadn’t remarried. By demoting Cinderella to a servant, her step-mother essentially guaranteed that she would never escape the house, because the only way for her to escape and maintain her status was to marry well, and no one was going to marry a servant. It was essentially the historical equivalent of your mom stealing your college acceptance letters out of the mailbox.
this was not an analysis i was prepared for, i’ll tell you that
An oral variation on Cinderella from Missouri strengthens the themes of the story as immortalized by Perrault by establishing a link between Cinderella’s two key attributes: the ashes and the slippers. Cinderella is trapped in the ashes of her father’s hearth because her stepfamily won’t give her shoes. Therefore, the glass slippers represent mobility, agency, escape, movement outside.
This are very good historical context clues about a deceptively simple story.
a while ago i wrote this as a thank you to someone who was very kind, and helped me out when i was in a tough spot. they were nice enough to give me permission to share it with all of you, so –
a fish may love a bird, but where will they live?
~
when runhilda was just a hatchling, a little boy with big
eyes fed her bread and called her pretty even before she was. he always had
bruises on his face and arms, and his clothes hung off him, but he always had soft
words for her, always gave her his bread crusts even though he needed them more
than she did.
when runhilda is older, and goes by runa, she throws off her
coat of feathers and steps from the river onto the land. she towers over the
teenage boy, stretching past six feet with flowing white-blonde hair and her
arms and thighs like tree trunks. “you need this more than i do,” she tells him
generously.
he looks on in confusion as she takes her coat of feathers
and wraps it around his shoulders. he transforms into graceful, powerful swan.
he transforms into a something that can fly away from his miserable life.
“give it back to me one day,” she says, “when you don’t need
it anymore.”
she pats him on the head, and he gently nips her hand before
he opens his wings and takes to the sky.
runa watches him go wistfully. she’ll miss her wings, but
she’s never had legs before and she’s eager to take them for a spin.
~
she tracks down the boy’s mother who’d been so cruel to him,
and no one is ever ready for a giant naked woman to burst into their pub and
start yelling at them, but runa still thinks she screamed too much. she’d
threatened the woman with everything from a sound beating to dire legal action,
and she and her husband leave town with nothing more than the clothes on their
backs.
this has worked out for runa nicely. she thinks running a pub
could be fun. she goes upstairs, and none of the tiny woman’s ridiculous
clothes will fit her, obviously, so she goes through the husband’s closet. she
thinks she looks rather dashing in trousers and suspenders and a crisp white
button up. she puts a newsboy cap over her curly mass of hair for good measure,
and winks at herself in the mirror. this being human thing is off to an
excellent start.
then she goes downstairs and realizes she’s scared off the
staff and patrons. the patrons she’s not too worried about this. this is
dublin, and no one even died. as long as the alcohol keeps flowing, they’ll be
back.
as for the staff ….
she goes to the river and recruits as many curious sisters as
she can. she walks back to her pub with her arms laden with feather coats and a
dozen gorgeous naked women all as tall as she is trailing behind her.
excellent.
~
the seamstress adores them, since most of her sisters prefer
the pretty, full bodied dresses that many of the human women wear, and they all
have to be custom made to fit their large shoulders and thick waists. runa
sticks to her trousers and shirts, and acquires a collection of newsboy hats.
her pub quickly gains a reputation, as it should. it’s
staffed by beautiful women who have no problem with ending a bar fight
personally, and physically throwing the offenders on to the street. there’s a
strict look, but don’t touch policy that all of the patrons take advantage of,
running their eyes over the beautiful barmaids. of course, quite a few human
men and women catch her sisters’ eyes, and more than one dazed and pleased
human has left their pub half dressed in the mornings.
no one catches runa’s attentions, until a slim woman with
dark skin and dark eyes takes a corner table in the pub. she’s in an opulent
grey dress, and her hair is carefully pinned into an elegant style, with a
glittering necklace around her throat. no woman as wealthy as this one should
be in runa’s establishment, or if she is she shouldn’t look miserable about it.
“here,” her sister pushes two mugs full to the brim into her
hands. runa glares at her, but she’s already turned away. she resents the implication
that she’s that transparent.
she still walks over to the woman and sits across from her,
pressing the drink into her hands. she looks startled, but not upset, so runa
leans her elbow halfway across the table and asks, “What’s a pretty girl like
you doing in a place like this?”
she smiles back, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. runa’s filled
with a determination to have her smile like she means it.
Kay Nielsen illustration for “East of the Sun and West of the Moon. Old Tales from the North”. Tales: “East of the Sun and West of the Moon”, “The Lassie and Her Godmother”, “Three Princesses of Whiteland”.
wrennette 