The following stories you are about to read are a set of Persian fairy tales from a real book known as 'The Seven Wise Princesses' by Wafa' Tarnowska. If you are fond of fairy tales that teach an important lesson and you happen to see this book in a shop somewhere, I definitely recommend that you pick it up.

Original Stories are from 'The Seven Wise Princesses' by Wafa' Tarnowska

Winx Club belongs to Iginio Straffi

The picture was made by me and can be found on my Deviantart page 'Autumnarie'.

The Rajah Who Dressed in Black

Told on Monday by the Indian Princess in the Black Pavilion of Saturn

Once, there was a powerful Rajah in the land of Gardenia named Ogron, who became known as the Rajah Who Dressed in Black. He wasn't always known by this name, in fact he was once called the Congenial Rajah as he enjoyed having guests, always arranging feasts and having magnificent carpets spread out under their feet.

The banquets he threw were bigger than any ever witnessed, succulent meats, delicious vegetables, sweet fruits and goblets filled with only the finest wine would line the tops of the tables and after a hearty meal, Rajah Ogron and his guests would lay in front of a warm fire and trade stories of many great and wonderful things. Some guests would speak of marvellous treasures they had found, some would speak of far away lands they had visited and exotic people that they had met and others would tell epic tales of war and conquest. Ogron had relished these tales and the company from which they came and to show his satisfaction in life, he wore robes of red and yellow.

For years, this was the way that he lived, ruling his Empire, entertaining guests and hearing their wonderful tales, but one morning, just before his guests of the day arrived, the Rajah had slipped away in secret from his palace.

The servants were frantic! They searched everywhere for him: The gardens, the treasury, his throne room, the town, his bedroom and even the palace roof. Yet not hide nor hair of their Rajah could be found. His friends questioned the viziers and counsellors but even they could not say where he had gone.

A year passed with no sign of Rajah Ogron, then just as suddenly as he had disappeared, he returned, looking very sad. His playful smirk, his red and yellow robes, his brightly coloured turban; gone.

He was, from head to toe, completely dressed in black.

He continued to rule wisely as he had before but he no longer invited visitors, banquets were no longer prepared nor were carpets spread out. No more tales were told, laughter ceased to echo the halls and the atmosphere dulled to a depressing fog.

Puzzled greatly and mildly concerned, Rajah Ogron's three advisors and closest friends, Anagan, Duman and Gantlos, decided that enough was enough and approached the Rajah as he was eating dinner.

"Rajah Ogron, why do you never invite anyone for banquets anymore? Why do you insist on isolating yourself?" Gantlos began.

"Rajah Ogron, why do you always wear black? Why do you always wear that sad face when you lie in the lap of luxury?" Anagan continued

"Please Rajah Ogron, we are your friends, surely you trust us enough to tell us what you saw on your journey that made you change so?" Duman finished with a pleading tone in his voice.

Slowly, Ogron raised his head as if weary and smiled sadly at his subjects.

"Anagan, Duman, Gantlos, you are my dearest friends and I trust you with my very life." The Rajah spoke after many days of silence. "I see that you are concerned for me and it warms my heart to know that. So to show how much I trust you, I shall tell you my story and answer all of your questions. Sit by my side if you please, for this is a somewhat lengthy tale. Are you comfortable? Good. Now listen and learn. My story begins one year and one month ago, when I received a most curious guest..."

Back when I was a free spirited man, there came a day where I had so few guests to entertain, one of which was a mysterious elderly man, who dressed head to foot in black, just as I am now. The other guests came and went with lovely stories to share, but my thoughts and eyes constantly drifted over to the old man in black, who simply stared into his cup of wine as if it held all the secrets of the world.

"What could his story be?" I wondered, "Why wear such a sad expression and such dark clothes in such a bright and happy atmosphere."

At long last, it was his turn to speak his story came, but he refused to say anything.

"Sir, why do you wear clothes that are pitch black?" I asked him, making sure to smile, I wanted to make sure that my guest felt welcome after all.

"I do not wish to speak of it, Sire." He declined my query politely, never looking me in the eye.

"Please speak, I would love to know." I pressed.

"You must excuse me," He replied quietly, "Only those who wear the clothes I do know the secret behind the colour black"

I would not be so easily swayed by the man's defensive words.

"Tell me your secret then!"

Once again, he excused himself.

I refused to give up and I pressed him constantly, wanting the answers I so desperately sought. At last, he finally saw that I would not take no for an answer and relented.

"Far away from here, there is a city called Stupfield. Its people are as white as the moon and their clothes are as black as the sky on a starless night. Whoever visits this city always ends up wearing black. I cannot tell you any more than that, now if you will excuse me, I must go."

So saying the man stood up and left and I never saw him again. Now, more puzzled than ever before, I found myself thinking of it constantly, I could not sleep, eat or concentrate on anything, my mind was plagued by the mystery behind the colour black and the City of Stupfield.

Finally, I decided that I'd had enough and decided to look for it right then and there.

I told no one of my decision, no one would understand my desire to know the truth. So I took a few robes, several servants and plenty of treasure, and off I went to find the city where everyone wore black.

It didn't take long at all, it wasn't even difficult to find but everything the old man said was true; the people's skin was as white as milk and they were all clothed in black. I rented a house and for almost a whole year I searched for someone who would tell me the secret behind the colour black, but everyone I asked would just shake their head and say I'm better off not knowing.

Then one day I met a butcher named Klaus who was so friendly and jolly that I decided to become friends with him. "I will shower him with gifts and riches to win his confidence" I told myself, "then surely he will tell me the secret I have been searching for."

So I became friends with Klaus, the butcher, the only friendly person in the sullen city and each day. I would present him a new gift: be it a bejeweled dagger, a lacquered box, a diamond ring. You name it, I would give it to him wholeheartedly.

One evening, Klaus invited me to his simple home for a delicious feast of all kinds of meat. He offered me everything my stomach could ever desire but not what my heart and mind needed. We talked about this, that and a little bit of everything, but all I wanted was to know the secret of black.

Many hours later the kind butcher said, "Dear boy, I don't know who you are or why you are here, for all I see is a generous heart and a worried face. What do you want from a poor old butcher like me? And why have you given me all of your riches?"

So touched by his honesty was I, that I told him of the black clad stranger that I met and how I had searched for almost a whole year for someone who would tell me the reason why everyone in the city of Stupfield wore mourning clothes.

By the time I had finished my story, Klaus' usually jolly face with reddened cheeks was as pale as the faces of the black clad people outside.

Finally, he spoke, "You could have asked me anything, my friend," he said with the sound of regret in his voice, "My life, my shop, my daughter's hand - anything but the secret of this poor city." He looked me in the eye "But you have taken so much trouble to find out, so I shall do what is possible." Then he stood and took me by the hand, leading me outside.

Not a soul was about. The darkness was so thick that I could barely see in front of me. Suddenly, after what felt like an eternity of blindly following the kind butcher, I bumped into something. I was a large basket attached to a rope that extended high above me and into the gloom.

"Climb in," Klaus ushered me into the basket "And good luck!" I had no time to ponder the meaning behind his words for the moment I stepped into the basket, the rope was pulled upwards by an unseen force, up and up it went, as if by magic. At first it seemed like it would never stop but after a while, it did, at the very top of a mountain.

I looked back down the way I came. The basket I rode to this place was nowhere to be seen and the way down was very long and if I were to jump, I would surely die. So there I stood, alone and high in the sky with nowhere to go, so I did the only thing I could do; I waited.

I sat alone, shivering with the cold, a little afraid and waited all night.

At long last dawn arrived, the few rays of the sun that peeked over the edge of the mountains that lined the horizon warmed the air. Then suddenly, as if out of nowhere, a huge bird appeared and flew towards the mountain on which I was placed. The great bird didn't even spare a glance my way, it simply nestled itself atop the mountain, close enough for me to reach out and touch, and promptly fell into slumber.

Once the great creature was asleep, I thought quickly, the only way out, I told myself, was to cling to the bird's talons and go wherever it takes me, what other options were there? So I tied myself to the beast's claws and waited patiently.

Sure enough, at cockcrow, the giant bird awoke with an earthshaking cry and spread its magnificent wings, taking to the sky immediately with me hanging onto it for dear life.

It flew high and far, drifting from morning till noon, until, tired from the heat and the long journey, it swooped down and landed on a field to rest. I quickly let go of the bird's feet and I ran as far away from it as I could, until I could run no more.

I collapsed from exhaustion, thanking every god and goddess I knew off the top of my head for my survival and looked up to survey the fields that I had landed upon. What I saw was not simply a mere field but a beautiful garden! The grass felt like silk, hyacinths, roses and jasmine grew from between the blades and I was surrounded by cypress and pine trees. Nearby, a beautiful turquoise stream surrounded by gently waving poplar trees bubbled and laughed while little silver fish shone like mercury in the waters. Truly, I was in paradise.

Around the garden I went, the cool water from the stream revitalizing me with but a sip, and I ate the delicious fruits and enjoyed the mixed aroma of the many flowers that surrounded me until, tired but absolutely content, I laid on the soft grass underneath a beautiful cypress and drifted away into the land of dreams.

Many hours later, I awoke to a gentle rain that fell like rose petals on my face. Darkness had already descended upon the garden. Several moments of blissful silence passed. Then suddenly, in the distance I saw many lights glittering in the night. My heart filled with fear as they came closer, what were they? Were they evil demons coming to defile the gardens beauty? Were they the owners of the garden who have come to kill me for trespassing?

I had no answers to my questions, so I hid behind one of the trees and waited. Finally, the lights illuminated a procession of beautiful woman, each bearing a candle. Their beauty was unparalleled! Their hair was a smooth as silk, their eyes were like brightly glittering jewels, their lips were the colour of rubies and jewels, gold and silk adorned their bodies. These were not ordinary mortal woman, these beautiful creatures were Houris, close relatives of the fairies.

With the grace of swans and the charm of a flute, they advanced, carrying pillows, carpets, footrests, plates of many types of food, jars of wine and many musical instruments on their heads, preparing themselves for a wonderful feast.

"Ah," I thought to myself, "these Houris must have a queen!" And I was right. Once the preparations were complete and everything was in place she appeared, flanked by a raven haired Houri clad in violet, another black haired Houri dressed in green who towered over them both and a little gold coloured dog padding loyally close to the queen.

The Houri queen, who was more beautiful than the sun, placed herself upon her throne and listened to the music that flowed from her subject fingers and lips and watched the others dance like petals in a gentle wind with a smile. After a while, she turned to her violet clad friend and said with a voice of honey, "Dearest Nebula, do you sense what I sense? A human is hiding in our garden, would you mind fetching him for me?"

The lovely Houri named Nebula searched all over until she found me crouched behind the tree. Without an ounce of fear or shyness, she declared, "Arise, human man. The queen of queens awaits your arrival."

Without a word, I followed her back to the feast and stood before the queen. I was shocked to silence, she was so much more beautiful up close. Her hair was the colour of raspberries and the ends appeared to have been dipped in gold, her eyes were a deep violet and her skin was like porcelain, gold bangles adorned her wrists and a bejeweled necklace traced her neck.

Without a word, I bowed so low that the ends of my ruby coloured hair brushed the floor but the lovely queen only laughed. "No need for that, dear man." She reached out and took my hand. "Come sit next to me and share my meal."

A tray was brought forward, full of the most delicious foods in ruby bowls, whatever my stomach desired appeared on my plate. The cupbearer brought forward a drink that tasted of blackberries and cherries dipped in syrup. The Houris danced and sang like birds. I leaned toward the queen and asked "Your Majesty, what is your name? What is this wondrous place?"

"My name is Roxy, queen of the Houris and this place is the Houris Garden, where all wishes come true."

"Might I wish a kiss from your ruby lips?" I asked with a charming smile.

"Not tonight, Rajah, not tonight," she replied, "You may kiss any of my maidens but you will have to wait to kiss me."

I returned to my spot, dejected and sad. I continued to enjoy the beautiful music, the Houris lovely dancing and the heavenly food, but my heart was set on stealing a kiss from the beautiful queen's lips.

Day after day, I walked in the garden, listening to the birds, eating the delicious fruits and dreaming of the night that was to come. Night after night I would experience the same pleasures, and the same tortures. I ate the most delicious of foods, listened to the most soothing music and watched the most graceful dances but I was never allowed to kiss the radiant queen.

For twenty-nine nights, I asked the same question to the queen "May I kiss you tonight?" and every time, she would reply, "Impatience is the vice of slaves, Rajah Ogron. Be patient and you will be rewarded a thousand times." She would then point to one of her many maidens and say, "You can kiss her if you want, but you cannot kiss me yet."

Every night I would kiss a new Houri, but my heart was forever set the queen. For nothing is more delicious than forbidden sweets, don't you agree? There I was living in literal paradise, yet I wanted more. How greedy humans can be!

On the thirtieth day, I decided not to take 'No' for an answer any long. I plotted all day on how to have my way with the loveliest of lovelies.

Night came at last, bringing with it the lovely Houris and their radiant queen, when the wine started to flow and the music began to play, I leaned towards the object of my affections and said in a low voice "Tonight is the night, my queen, I shall taste the sweet honey of your lips."

A brief look of disdain flashed on her face but was replaced quickly by her coy smile, and she replied, "One more night of your patience is all I ask, tomorrow this treasure will be yours." but the night seemed to go on forever, the food tasted bland, the music began to sound lackluster and my patience was wearing thin.

"Why must I wait a whole night and day?" I asked myself. "What is this talk of impatience being the vice of slaves? I am a Rajah, not a slave! Rajah's are allowed to do whatever they please!"

So I stood up and, without so much as a 'May I?' or 'please' I closed my eyes and leaned towards the beautiful Roxy and pressed my lips against her ruby ones.

Alas, the moment I touched those magical lips without permission, I found myself back in the basket at the top of the mountain, Klaus the butcher waving at me. The basket descended and when it finally reached the bottom, I stepped out, and promptly fell to my knees in despair.

The butcher shook his head sadly "Now you see, my boy," he placed a hand upon my shoulder. "All the people in the city of Stupfield have been there before you. That is why we wear black, to remind ourselves of our foolish impatience." I said nothing, the butcher's warm hand on my shoulder provided no comfort; my sadness was too great.

At last I stood, I turned to Klaus and asked him to take me back to the town. Once we arrived, I ordered myself a set of black robes, the people of Stupfield saw me and looked at me with sympathy in their eyes, for they too, knew the pain I had suffered all too well.

So with a heavy heart and all of my answers, I returned home in my black robes, gave all of my old robes to the poor and ordered that my guesthouse to be closed. I turned my mind to the matters of my country and continued to rule, not as the Congenial Rajah but as the Rajah Dressed in Black.

The Rajah finished his tale with a bowed head. "I lost an entire paradise in a moment of folly and greed." He raised his head and looked at his advisors with sadness in his eyes. "I pray that you all have learned the lesson that I had that fateful day. Please do not make the same mistake as I had." With that, Ogron stood and retired to his chambers for the night.

Anagan, Duman and Gantlos all sat in silence even long after Ogron had left, touched by the story their Rajah had told, and came to a silent agreement. They too, shall wear black like their Rajah and remember with grief, how their dear friend had lost paradise and love, in a moment of impatience.

When you think about it.

Black is the colour the sky on a dark night

Black is the colour of young hair, while the colour of old hair is grey

Your pupils - through which you see and learn about the world - are also black

Black is not just the colour of mourning.