The Unlikely Adventures of Mary (Maria) and Ivan Tsarevich

Author's Note: This story is loosely based on a hybrid of several Russian folk tales and contains a modern twist. Also, all of the names here are either taken from the myths themselves, or chosen randomly.

P.S. I am not finished writing; I only published this to test the waters and to see if people think it's worth continuing. Feedback is welcome!

Chapter I The Feather

Ivan Tsarevich approaches, his wild, shoulder length red hair whips in the icy wind. His broad shoulders and dark grey eyes turn to me while he pulls out a red feather from his satchel and places it in my hands. The feather sparkles like a million rubies and glows like a fresh ember. It even emits a slight warmth, so I gratefully brush it against my face on this bitter January dusk.

"It's beautiful," I whisper, mesmerised.

"And it's yours. The firebird is a loyal beast, protector of whomever possesses one of its tailfeathers."

"But surely you have some use for it?" I ask politely, secretly hoping that he won't change his mind.

"Certain forces beyond my comprehension are at work, Maria. The soothsayer stopped me on my way to market this morning and handed me the feather. I was under strict instructions to give this to you, and that is all he told me." He continued, "To tell you the truth, if he hadn't been so magical, I probably would have kept it to give to Anna for her birthday tomarrow."

For a second, my heart stops. Then, with a wave of relief, I remember that Anna is just one of his sisters. His last sister actually, for the elder two had been married off to handsome princes. You see, the Tsareviches are a family of unmatched beauty, rumored to be the handsomest people in all the kingdoms.

"But what am I to do with it?" I wonder aloud.

Ivan shrugs and begins walking away. Then he calls back over his shoulder, "Keep it! I guess."

A few seconds later, I hear a muffled thud, followed by cussing. I hope he doesn't hear me giggle as I slip back into my cottage.

Chapter II In Which Mary Awakens

I wake up with a start and can't remember where I am. I reach for the feather on my bedside table and examine it. Shoot, it's only the falcon feather that I found yesterday on a family hike. I am in my bedroom, in a nondescript modern house, on a wet and cold Monday morning. I force myself to get out of bed, but promptly and unexpectedly trip over something. I make a fist and punch the air in frustration. As I bend down to pick it up, everything comes back to me: I was up late last night reading from my new Russian mythology collection. I probably moved when I fell asleep, so the book landed on the floor. That, and the falcon feather also explain my dreams. I quickly get ready and run downstairs to eat breakfast. I'm not late for school, it's just a game I play with my brother to see who can get ready the fastest.

Breakfast this morning is oatmeal, again. Just as I am about to take a bite though, my older sister leisurely strolls into the kitchen. "Mom says you have to get rid of that feather –it's probably diseased," she proclaims, trying to sound authoritative.

"Sure," I lie, which is very out of character for me. However, I make allowances for myself, knowing that it would be too late if I got rid of it now anyway. The real reason is that I have grown quite attached to the thing, as if it were a momentum from my dream.

"So how's that book of yours, Mary," She taunts. "You know he's way out of your league and something stupid like that isn't going to impress him."

I sit there stunned, horrified that Carol could read my mind. After a few seconds though, I remember confiding in her last week about my crush on Mikhail, the exchange student from Russia. So she thinks that I bought the book because of him! I don't plan on telling her this, but in actual fact, I was already into Russian art and myths long before I even heard of him. In other words, I got a crush on Mikhail because he is Russian. Otherwise, I don't usually let myself fall for conceited jerks like him.

I think Carol realizes she went too far, because she reads my silence as hurt: "Listen Mary, it's not like I could get him either. Besides, he's a total playboy and can't keep down a relationship for more than a couple weeks."

"That's ok cuz' I'm over him anyway," I mumbled hazily, only half listening to her apologies.

The truth is, I forgot about him until she brought it up, and now I dread going to school even more. Unlike most girls, who seem to enjoy running into their crushes, I detest it. Sometimes I wish that the guys I like would just move to another school or something. Why? It's quite simple really, if you take a look at my average day at hs. I'll summarize it for you: I'm that quiet, socially akward kid who hangs out with people they can't stand, just so they have someone to sit next to in class. Gym? Well that's right up there with Chinese water torture.

Today was better than I anticipated, probably because all I did was zone out and think about last night. I even got to wondering if maybe in another world, I am coy and graceful Maria. I would give anything to have that dream just one more time. Well, just in case, I make sure to read some more mythology before I go to bed.

Chapter III Or Is Maria the One Dreaming?

"Wake up Maria, you have a visitor!" my mother calls from the hallway

"Coming, mama!" I reply, hoping the mystery person is Ivan

To hedge my bets, I wash my face and put on my favorite pair of earrings. I hear mom yell, "Hurry up! where are your manors to keep such a noble guest waiting?" Disapointed, I open the door to the village soothsayer, a mere scruffy toad of a man. "Come with me, Maria," he rasps. I glance back to ma, who gives a quick nod of consent.

"I know you are embarassed to be seen with this old bag, but I'll only be a minute," the soothsayer says matter-of-factly.

"Never, Master Alexander, I value your company!" I reply, horrified.

"I'm a soothsayer, you know, so you've got nothing to hide. I also know that you have a liking for that Tsarevich boy." I turn as red as the firebird. "Regardless," he sighs, "You have important work to do, and I am here to tell you all I can." He pauses.

"Go on," I prompt

"Patience, my friend," he chuckles. "Oh well, I suppose you are a bit nervous, I really can't blame you." He clears his throat and begins.