Disclaimer: Do I look like the brothers Grimm? Don't answer that!

Anir went to the city to get a taste of life. There, she found that if you were going to taste any food at all, you needed money. And so Anir, who was used to having everything provided for her, was forced to take on a job as a scullery maid (in the palace, of course). As she had never learnt to cook or clean, she was deemed fit only for the most menial occupations. She soon became very dirty from these tedious (to describe, as well as to perform, so I won't bother) tasks, and her clothes worn. The other maids called her Tattyrattyrags (because in that society, as in ours, fashion was most important and people were defined by what they wore, or what they got on themselves from sleeping in the fireplace – this means you, Cinderella). Needless to say, Anir hated this. The ruthless side of her became tougher, harder, while her sweeter nature became shier and, as a result, less visible to those around her. Anir was determined to improve her situation. And what better way to do so, she thought, than to win the reward the king and queen of that city were offering to whoever could get their seven dwarves to like vegetables.

Anir did not have to ponder her strategy for long. One day, while she was collecting firewood, she came upon a little hut with a little garden. In this little garden were growing the biggest, juiciest lettuces that she had ever seen. Her first thought was that no one could fail to be tempted by them, and so without a second thought she plucked seven from the ground, ran to the city and presented them to the king and queen. To their delight, the seven dwarves could not resist the lettuces, and it soon became clear that Anir should claim the reward.

And so without further ado Prince Henry and Anir, whom (despite her cunning disguise of ball gown and glass slippers) everyone easily recognised as Tattyrattyrags, were married. Does this seem wrong to you, reader? Strange, that a brother and sister should get married? Strange and wrong as it most certainly was (though we can't blame Anir – she didn't know, and besides, we'll have enough to blame her for later) the situation would only get worse.

For on the evening of the day on which Anir and Henry were married, the very same day that she had found the lettuces, the witch who had grown them came to court. She'd followed Anir's scent (there was a pungent smell to her when she was Tattyrattyrags) right into the great hall

"She's stolen my lettuces!" she screeched, pointing at Anir

"Steal is such an ugly word," the girl replied.

Undeterred, the witch told the courtiers, the king and the queen that these had been her prized lettuces, which she had been growing for a show. "I am sorry," the queen apologised, "but those lettuces were taken to cure my sons of a dreadful malady. We will pay you handsomely for them."

But that, this witch seethed, was not the point. Those lettuces had been her chance of defeating Mrs. Blenkinsop, three times winner of the lettuce prize. And so there was nothing for it. She turned the seven princes into geese.

Anir, the thief, she left alone. But she was hardly unpunished – she was now married not only to her brother (though she didn't know this yet) but also to a goose! Though it was discovered that the princes did turn back into dwarves during the night this hardly helped, as they used up so much energy being geese during the day that they immediately fell deeply asleep. A goose girl was hired to care for them. She was thought to be the best goose girl in all the land, and seemed to have a curious affinity with geese. Her name was Odette, and the reason she got on so well with the birds was that, at night, she herself became a swan. She was especially friendly with Arthur, the second oldest prince and was sure that she could detect real admiration in his black, beady eyes when he looked at her. But, as is so common in our own society, they were kept apart by their different schedules. During the day, one was bird, the other human. During the night, the situation was reversed. It seemed doomed from the start.

Doomed was an adjective that could also be applied to Anir.

"Geese!" cried the queen, "geese! That's worse than dwarves!"

"I can't help but feel partly responsible – " Anir began.

"Partly responsible?" the king rudely interrupted "You're entirely responsible – this whole thing is your fault!"

"My fault? You're the ones to blame!" Anir roared, her earlier sympathy dissipating, "No children like vegetables! It's the parents' job to force them to eat them! You shouldn't have been so indulgent." The king was momentarily stymied, allowing Anir to continue. "As I was saying, as I feel partly – partly – responsible, I'll do what I can to help."

And so Anir, Odette and the seven geese turned up on the doorstep of the witch's tower.

"I need that help you promised," Anir told the witch. "I've turned the seven princes of the nearest city into geese. Naturally their parents are somewhat peeved, and in addition to that the eldest prince is my husband and it's less convenient for me if he's a bird. So, could you, you know, turn them back?"

"You..." the witch began. She was going to continue with "you've married your brother!" but as it was clear Anir didn't know, she reconsidered. Perhaps it would be better if she never found out. The witch cared for Anir, and she didn't want to think about what that knowledge might do to her. So she recovered herself.

"You've succeeded in your quest remarkably quickly," she said instead. For indeed, only a month after leaving the tower, Anir had returned with a husband in tow. Granted, he was both her brother and a goose, but is anyone perfect?

"Oh, don't worry, I don't love him, and those were the terms. No, this is purely a marriage of convenience. Which is precisely why this inconvenience" – here she gestured to the geese, who were clustered round Odette's legs – "is so irksome."

"Well, I'll see what I can do – I did promise, after all," the witch replied. Screwing up her eyes, she chanted an incantation. There was a sharp POP! She opened her eyes again.

"Frogs!" wailed Odette, cradling a newly slimy Arthur. "You've turned them into frogs!"

"Frogs are worse that geese!" shouted Anir.

"No, no," the witch reassured them, "frogs are easy. All you have to do is find a princess to kiss each of them."

"Seven princesses?" whispered Odette.

"Probably easier than finding one princess who'll kiss seven frogs," Anir told her, "but actually I have an idea which means we might not have to do either."

That night the two girls (plus the seven frogs – the princes didn't seem to change back at night any more, making them a lot easier to carry…what do you mean, random plot device for convenience! I'm hurt!) went fishing in a little boat.

"Remind me again why we're doing this?" asked Odette, lowering the net.

"We're going to catch a fish. It will be big, sparkly and probably able to talk. It'll plead with us for its life. Then we'll gut it" – she said this with relish – " and get the magic ring it's swallowed out of its innards. You'll do that last bit," she informed the goose girl, happy to talk down to Odette now that she was married to the heir apparent. Odette had no chance to respond, because at that moment they felt a tug on the net, as though they'd caught something big. Together, they hauled the catch up.

"Release me! Put me back!" the catch screamed. They were expecting a fish. They were half right.

The mermaid glared at them. She seemed to be having trouble breathing. "I'm a princess! A king's daughter! I demand that you put me back!" The other two shook their heads, and the mermaid visibly crumpled. "Please," she begged, "I'll do anything you ask!"

"Hey!" exclaimed Odette, "If she's a princess, she can kiss one of the frogs." She covered Arthur protectively with her hand.

"No, I've been thinking and if I'm going to get into the king and queen's good books, they'll have to come back with wives."

"Well, what's wrong with her?"

"Do you know how fish reproduce?" There was an uncomfortable pause. Then, "We want a ring that grants wishes," Anir informed the mermaid.

"Done!" she gasped, pulling a golden band from her finger and with that Anir heaved her into the sea. "Seven wishes, that's good for. Quality stuff. But no wishing people in love or dead, right? It's not insured for that. Oh, and no wishing frogs to turn into people, OK? I spelled it so it wouldn't do that, because I like frogs way more than people."

"Of course," Anir growled, "that would just be too easy."

"Also, because otherwise we wouldn't have a story. And that would be bad. Very bad," the mermaid giggled before diving down beneath the waves.

"What do we do now?" asked Odette.

"The plot's been rushing along at such a lightning speed that I think we could all use a break before we get into the main business of princess finding," said Anir wisely.

A/N

Yay! Long chapter. If I come back after the hols and find lots of reviews, I'll continue happily. If I come back and find only one review, which then turns out to be a flame that comments on my personal hygiene, I'll still continue happily because I actually like writing this!