In a certain kingdom, in a certain faraway land, there lived a mighty ruler named Czar Dobrobrod. He had three sons. The eldest was Tsarevich Luka the Clever and his name suggested, one should not put a finger to his teeth. The second was Tsarevich Karakov the Brave. Brave, of course, was lightly said as he had the habit of getting into fights he'd not been provoked into. The youngest was Sevka the Fool (the name speaks for itself, dear reader).
The Czar was growing old and weary. He longed for the sound of children's feet on the floors of his palace, and on his aching back. He'd been sitting on that damned throne for what had felt like a hundred years and needed the free acupuncture.
One eve, he called his three sons to his chambers, and made a rather grand spectacle of faking his death (after all, a man only dies once). On the round table before him lay three bows made of thin birch and three arrows of rabbit-bone.
"The time has come my sons for you to secure your future. Take these arrows. Shoot them into the fields and follow suit. Where the arrow lands lies your fate."
Luka and Karakov nodded their heads solemnly, and only Sevka the Fool questioned his methods. Why had he not just set them up with maidens in nearby kingdoms? Of course, him being called the Fool led to his questions being written off. Besides, it was more 'fun' doing it Dobrobrod's way.
The sons obeyed in the end. The next morn they stood back to back in the golden rye fields. They shot their arrows into the crisp air. The eldest shot his to the east, the second to the west. Sevka the youngest shot his to the north.
"No wife will live in the Northern Swamps. Sevka, Sevka, you are a fool indeed." His brothers laughed and took their steeds and rode forth into the light. Of course, there were no women there, which was exactly the point.
The eldest, Luka, rode to the nobleman's estate. The nobleman's daughter held the arrow out for him. The second, Karakov, stopped at the merchant's home. The merchant's daughter extended his arrow for him.
Sevka took his own steed and followed the North Star. Long he travelled; far he travelled until he came to the Black Lagoons. There he saw a frog holding his arrow in its webbed hands. The frog spoke in a human tongue.
"What do you seek man?" it said.
"You could have at least called me young," he said with a snort. "I seek a wife, but luckily you are not fit to play the part."
He reached for the arrow, but the frog quickly hid it behind her back.
"You could have thanked me for fishing your arrow out from the cold muck, but I can clearly see that neither of us will receive what we desire. Regardless, you have no other option, but to take me with you. Would you rather wed this knot of Gillyweed instead?"
Sevka cursed the Gods. He'd only known her for a minute and already wished he could strangle her. Should he take her for a wife? She wasn't even a woman. If his father had something to say to him, the message was received loud and clear.
Sevka really had no other option. He scooped the frog in his arms and took her back to the Czar's Court. On the road back, he listened to her countless questions about the court life mixed in with her giving him directions back to the kingdom she had never visited. This continued until he stuffed her into his riding pouch.
Back at the palace, his brothers looked at him and his frog and laughed. A swamp creature as his wife? It was unheard of. Sevka tried to reason with his father in private.
"I cannot take her as my wife, she cannot be my fate," he said. "Besides, she is the most devilishly annoying frog in the entire land."
"Take the frog, she will be a good wife to you," Czar Dobrobrod said, popping a lemon gingerbread into his mouth. "Besides Sevka, do you want me to die an unhappy man?"
Therefore, they wed. The eldest son to the nobleman's daughter, the second to the merchant's daughter and the youngest to the devilishly annoying frog.
She had only one request of him as the vows were spoken, to never touch her frog skin. As though Sevka would want to.
During the banquet, Sevka made every attempt to avoid any talks regarding his 'wedding night' and 'honeymoon' (which, dear reader, did not happen). He did consider the options, but he could not be that creative in bed. At the very least, his father would not be expecting any grandchildren from them.
The Czar was pleased that his sons followed his advice. The first week, he was at peace, but the second he began to stir. Again, he called his sons to his chambers.
"Which of your wives can spin me the best tapestry? I am getting old and weary and my eyes want to see beauty one final time."
The sons went off to their chambers to their wives. So did Sevka to his frog.
"Why are you so sorrowful, beloved-dearest?" asked the frog. "Have you finally noticed how deep your crows' foot is becoming?" Sevka told her of the Czar's request.
"Go to sleep, I will help you. Morn is wiser than Night."
Sevka lay down his head and slept. As he did, the frog tossed off her skin and became Germilona the Nimble. She sang for her maids, the geese and the mice. They came through the windowpanes and door and sewed a beautiful tapestry for her.
They sewed until the dawn broke. It was Germilona's finest work yet.
Come morning, the wives brought their tapestries to the Czar. Luka's wife made a tapestry of a fruit bowl with a snake. Karakov's wife, of a horse. The frog's tapestry was rather...explicit. So explicit, dear reader, that the censure of the times had not permitted its depiction in the parchment. The entire court had to shut their eyes when Sevka unraveled it on the floor, and one chambermaid nearly broke out in borscht-red hives at the sight. Dobrobrod loved it so much; he hung the tapestry in his chambers in a wooden frame.
A week passed and the Czar called his sons to his room again.
"Which of your wives can bake me the finest bread?" he asked. "I am getting old and weary and my tongue yearns to taste the fresh rye of our golden fields one last time."
Again, the sons went back to their wives. Sevka put down his weary head before the Frog.
"Do not fret beloved, your head has more grey hairs than black. Rest, morn is wiser than night."
Sevka slept and as he did, the frog tossed her skin to the side and became Germilona the Cook. She called on her maids and they worked until dawn.
In the morn, the wives presented their breads to the Czar. Luka's wife baked a very rich dark-rye bread with sunflower seeds after which the Czar announced that he could not tolerate gluten. Luckily, Karakov's wife made a gluten-free option, which brought equal displeasure from his majesty. The frog's baking, as the Czar described it, was not bread.
"Chocolate frogs, by the Gods!" He licked his fingers in approval. "Sevka, your wife had done it again!"
By now, both Luka and Karakov and their respective partners were scraping their nails against the wood. Outdone by a frog? It was unheard of.
A week passed again and the Czar called the sons to his chambers.
"Sons the time has come for me to meet your beloveds. Bring them to the hall the next fortnight to the Great Feast."
Now Sevka was more sorrowful than ever. He sulked back to his chambers as his brothers laughed at him. A wife with skill he may have had, but a wife of beauty he did not.
As he lay his weary head down, the frog asked again, what the matter was. Sevka whispered the Czar's request, making every attempt to avoid the delicate subject of her looks.
"What do you mean I look a little too slimy? Have you seen yourself in the mirror lately? I'm beginning to think I've received the short end of the stick." She crossed her arms and turned back to her reading. "My mother always said I should have married the Vodyanoy."
"If you are so displeased, how about I drop you back into your wonderful swamp?" he said, adding on the second part quietly. "It's not as though we've consummated the marriage."
After this, he was made to sleep on the floor.
The night of the Great Feast came. Sevka dressed and knocked on the bedroom door.
"Are you ready?"
"I'll come as soon as I am. Go on without me, I will join you later."
Sevka walked off with a little pep in his step. Luckily, neither of them will experience the embarrassment of appearing together at this social event. If he was lucky, he could excuse himself early.
In the chambers, the frog tossed off her skin once more and became Germilona the Beautiful. She brushed her curls into a thick braid and squeezed herself into the most outrageously scandalous, ankle-showing sarafan she could find.
When she appeared in the hall, all eyes were on her. Sevka brothers looked at her like wolves would on fresh mutton and their wives seethed and broiled in jealousy. And Sevka, well let's just say dear reader that he wish he had worn looser robes that evening.
The entire family prepared for dinner. As she sat to Sevka's right, every string on his heart plucked away like a fine lute. He was certain he would not need dessert that evening and was hoping to excuse the both of them to their chambers to get on with those nasty-old wedding vows. After all, he was a man of honor.
However, Germilona had other plans and the spectacle was not over. Over dinner, she dropped fowl bones into her left sleeve and poured wine into her right. The wives looked at her with disgust. What could the baba be doing?
Then it was time to partake in the dancing. Germilona stood in the center of the room. She waved her right sleeve and a lush lake appeared. She waved her left and a cavalry of swans swam across its waters. Every man and woman in the room applauded.
The wives rushed to the tables and began to copy the frog-maiden's movements. They too placed bones and poured wine down their sleeves. When they came to dance, they waved their hands left and right. As they did, the bones flew into the hall. One even flew into the Czar's own eyes.
He became very cross and sent the wives to their chambers.
Now both Sevka and Germilona exchanged a look that could be described as mutual contentment. A wonderful night indeed! Hand in hand, they excused themselves from the festivities and stumbled into their chamber.
"I will freshen up with some rosewater." Germilona winked and disappeared behind the divider.
Sevka strutted around the room and suddenly, his eyes fell on the wrinkled frog skin in the corner. He picked it up and tossed it into the flames of the fireplace. A frog for a wife? Never again.
Germilona appeared and as soon as she found out what Sevka had done, she let out a wail.
"What have you done? You have condemned me. Now I will never be yours! You'll find me at Vladismert's lands."
With that, she turned into a bird and flew out into the night. Sevka tore at his hair. He raced to the stables, saddling the first horse he saw and set out into the night. He travelled for a little under ten minutes before crashing into a nearby haystack and falling asleep.
In the morning, his hangover was instantly cured with a tub of cold water over his head. An old peasant man stood there, cane in hand. Sevka explained his story to him, of how he burned his wife's frog skin and how she'd flown away to Vladismert's lands.
"Fool you are Sevka. The name does not lie. You didn't dress her, you had no right to undress her."
"As her husband-" Sevka began before being hit across the head with a cane and told off.
The peasant man pointed the way to Vladismert's lands and Sevka was off again. He rode for a whole day before reaching Vladismert's lands, cold and barren.
In the dark, stone castle by the window, Germilona sat reading a book (and looking quite content for the matter). Sevka snuck into the castle when he was sure that they were the only ones there. He fell to his wife's feet and begged for her forgiveness. He pleaded her to come back with him before the Master of Death returned.
"I forgive you," she said slowly. "Now that you have my forgiveness, be off."
When he continued to kneel before her, holding her hands, she added in a stifled tone, "Were you not the one most displeased with this arrangement? Should you not be thanking your lucky stars I am gone?"
"Since then, I had realized my mistake had not been marrying you, but of not realizing that you were the most brilliant frog…dame that I'd ever had the fortune of meeting."
She blushed.
"So I am, but there is no chance I will be stepping back into the Czar's home again. Besides isn't it time you moved out of your father's dwelling?" she said with a rather haughty voice. Whatever attitude she gained from Vladismert was doing nothing to quell his admiration for her.
Sevka and Germilona escape from the castle, and settled in a distant village. They sent their farewells to the Czar by dove. It had soon become known that Dobrobrod was miraculously cured and it had nothing to do with the fact that all three of his sons were happily married.
Sevka and Germilona built a tiny cottage and spent the remainder of their days reading the finest books and enjoying the full display of their marital duties in a most Pagan manner.
I'd been at their dwelling myself, drinking their home-brewed honey mead. It trickled down my moustache, but didn't reach my lips.
Betas
Thank you to the . fallen .malfoy for correcting spelling, grammar and punctuation as well as helping with sentence structure.
Thank you to Wiz at PPygmyPuff for helping with dialogue and characterization.
All other errors are part of my own personal recipe.
Both writers are on and AO3 and I reccomend you reading their works!