Once upon a time, there was a young princess who was very obedient. Every night, she studied the rules of the kingdom, the wishes of the people, and the whims of the king, and every day she strove to act exactly as she should. The laws changed quickly, and she knew if she was ever caught breaking the laws, she would surely be put to death.
A royal decree declared that princesses must dress only in rags. The princess tore up all her beautiful clothes.
A royal decree declared that princesses must be whipped daily. The princess delivered the lashes herself.
A royal decree declared that princesses must never speak foolishness. The princess prepared each utterance with study and care so as to only speak wisdom.
The princess prayed and prayed that she could be loved by the people and king as she loved them. One day, struck with courage, she went out among them. She walked through the kingdom, dressed in rags, covered in bleeding welts, afraid to speak, and they jeered her. The king saw her being jeered and was filled with furious humiliation. He ordered his soldiers to seize her and lock her away in the dungeon.
After many days and nights in her cell alone, she was dragged away to appear before the king. "You are disgusting," he said to her. "All princesses are under a curse, and we know this curse will one day be the downfall of our land."
The princess was horrified to hear this from the wise king. "I must be immediately put to death!" she insisted.
But the kind king just shook his head. "Even though you are vile and ruinous, you have been obedient to the laws and rules of the kingdom, and from that, you have proven your worth. There is one way to escape the curse. You must stop being a princess. You must grow into a queen." And he took the princess into the royal kitchens, where there was a giant cauldron in a large fireplace. He placed the princess into the cauldron and lit the fire. "You must stay here, in your new chambers," he declared.
The fire caused the cauldron to glow red, and the princess screamed in pain, but she did not disobey the king. Once a day, a small hole opened in the lid and she was given just one bean and two drops of water. Still, she did not disobey the king.
Fifteen years later, the king doused the fire and tipped over the cauldron. What spilled out was not a princess, but rather a beautiful queen, dressed in purple miniver. The king wept in his joy. The obedient queen had saved the kingdom from her own horrible curse.
Once upon a time, there was a young prince who was very churlish. The prince lived in a mighty castle, a castle which was the pride of his country and the envy of every neighboring kingdom. Because of this, there was constant war. Even as a young boy of no more than two, he was a great warrior, and he longed to join in his kingdom's war with a neighboring land.
However, the boy was such a great warrior, he slew any soldier that trained with him. Though small of stature, he bore his great war hammer with such ferocious strength, that his own army grew smaller and smaller every time he picked it up to spar.
The king and queen begged the prince to step away from the battlefield, but the lure of glory was too strong. He led battle after battle against the neighboring land, and although he was no higher than the soldiers' knees, after every battle, the only one standing was the young prince. Soon, all soldiers in both kingdoms' armies were entirely gone.
The prince knew glory was soon to come, so he climbed atop his pony and rode into the enemy kingdom. He rode directly up to the defenseless king and queen and slew them.
The prince returned to his land a great hero. The king and queen were overjoyed by his deeds, and they celebrated him with cheers and a grand feast at the castle.
However, at the feast, the prince saw the people celebrating not only him, but also the kingdom's mighty, beautiful castle, truly the finest building in the world. He knew there was one final glory still to be his.
He walked to the wall of the banquet hall, raised his war hammer, and brought it crashing down against the stone. With a thunderous crack, the castle crumbled, and no one inside was ever seen again.
An age of peace fell upon the kingdom thanks to the churlish prince's great deeds.
Once upon a time there was a young princess who was very ugly. She was such an ugly sight, old women tore out their eyes when they saw her.
She emitted such an ugly smell, children would hold their heads underwater whenever she walked past.
And most hideous of all, she made sounds that were so ugly, it drove everyone else in the kingdom mad.
She was driven off into a great, dark forest, where she lived in a hidden, sunlit glen. She ate toadstools and winterberries, and she spent her days weeping in shame and loneliness. Her glen grew more and more foul.
One day, she was startled by the sound of a great thunderclap, and who should walk out of the forest to greet her but Father Mushroom, king of the Fairies? "What is this noisome, hideous scene?" Father Mushroom complained to her. "We faer folk have allowed you to live in our forest in the spirit of neighborliness, but you have left it a terrible ruin."
"Forgive me, Father Mushroom!" the princess cried. "My stench causes even the North Wind herself to choke, so she cannot blow it hence. My foul tears poison the earth, so all that can grow are toadstools and winterberries. My horrible visage keeps all forest creatures, dryads, and gnomes from ever coming close. And the terrible sounds of my crying have twisted this once lovely glen into mandrake and soot."
Father Mushroom clutched his head in agony from the ugly princess's foul-sounding voice, but he was knowledgeable in the ways of magic and understood the princess's plight. "I see the source of this hideousness," he said. "Your body is infected with evil. Your tongue has been cursed with foul magic, and it is from your tongue that your ugliness spreads."
"Then I must pluck it out!" the princess cried, and she bravely reached into her mouth, grasped her tongue, and wrenched it from her body. She threw it on the ground of the ruined glen, and instantly, she transformed into a beautiful maid.
"Your comeliness and courage have enchanted me!" Father Mushroom told her. "Come to the kingdom of fairies and be my bride!" The princess could not speak, but Father Mushroom swept her away and into the earth to a marvelous wedding feast.
But sadly, sadly, that was not the ugly princess. The ugly princess was not the body taken away by Father Mushroom; the ugly princess was the foul tongue itself. When she tore the tongue out, she tore herself out.
She lay on the ground of the glen, shuddering and disgusting and alone, as the forest grew old. She is still there to this day.
Once upon a time there was a young princess who was very wicked. She was sweet and beautiful and loved by the people, but her heart was as black as coal.
She carried with her a journal in which she would write all her vile, vicious thoughts: the sins she would gleefully perform, the nefarious desires. One day the king and queen found the journal, and they wept in their horror and distress. They sent a request across the entire kingdom to save their daughter. Wizards, physicians, and alchemists came one after another, but none of the miracles of magic or science could cure the despicable princess. The king and queen stayed inside the castle all day and all night, and the kingdom grew cold and barren.
The wicked princess herself was desolate in her sorrow. She had not known she was evil; she lacked even the slightest twinkling of conscience that would illuminate the foulness within her. She hated her own vicious nature, and she wished only to be free of it. She was wracked with terrible visions of her future, the carnage and misery she would cause. In despair, she tried to end her life by leaping from the highest tower, by plunging herself into the moat, by hanging herself with bedsheets. But each time, her wickedness lived on.
It was the queen who finally discovered the answer. As a young princess herself, she remembered her own mother telling wonderful tales of romance, and as much as any etiquette lessons or language studies, this education prepared her for adulthood. After all, a queen cannot choose her king, but she must choose to love her king!
It was these lessons the queen passed on to the wicked princess, the great stories of love: Dido and Aeneas, Calixasase and Otto, Iris and Osiris, St. Bedevere and Lillia, Sambuck and Elisabeth. And the princess learned great wisdom from these stories. She had been trying to fight her nature like St. George battling the dragon; like a prince. But she was not a prince.
Hers were the ways of woman, and she learned she must instead redirect her nature with subtlety, grace, kindness, and prudence. Having learned this lesso-
Once upon a time, there was a young prince who was very impulsive. None could predict his behavior, and he was often carried away by some new whim or whimsy. His feet were sore from wandering; his hands calloused from striking them against trees, but he could not stop each moment from carrying him along to a new lark.
One day, he saw a pheasant in a tree, and he felt an impulse to speak. So he said, "Good morning, sir pheasant, I hope you live another day with your feathers unplucked."
And the pheasant looked back and him and said, "What for do you speak to me in such a way? It is bad enough my feathers could be plucked by any one of these miserable hunters, but a wandering rogue must remind me?"
The prince laughed and said, "I mean no offense, friend. But tell me, are the hunters really a problem for a clever bird such as yourself?"
"They torment me day and night!" the pheasant exclaimed.
"Why, then something must be done!" the prince shouted, and in a rage he raced into the wood seeking out any hunter and slaying him. By the end of the day, every hunter in the wood lay dead.
The prince returned from his task and informed the pheasant of what he had done. "A joyful day!" the pheasant cheered. "But I must tell you: I am not truly a pheasant. I am Adam Coldcloak, of the fairies. And since you have done me a service, I will remain with you."
"Why, what service can you perform for me?" the prince asked.
"I sing a sweet song," Mr. Coldcloak replied. "And my song can bring peace to any who hear it." And with that, he flew down and landed on the prince's shoulder and began to sing.
The sweet song indeed brought peace to the prince's mind, and he was no longer tormented with impulsivity. He returned home to rule his forgotten land. He became a just and wise king, and travelers from around the world came to receive his advice and to hear his pheasant's song.
Once upon a time there was a young princess who was very lonely. The king loved her and hoped for her happiness, but he was kept away from her by the harsh duties of court and ruling. The princess's grace and charm cheered the people of the kingdom, and they delighted of her presence and sang her praises at eveningtide. But they did not understand her heart, and their praise was merely cold whispers in her ears.
As a babe, the princess had been blessed with a gift for fantasy and imagination. This was her joy: She swept herself into wondrous gests and tales... but it was also her sorrow: She could never forget that a million moments span beyond the present. Even the sweet caress of a lovely maid or a praise of a tutor... moments that should have allowed her heart to sing... were dulled by the knowledge that time goes on, that happiness fades, that loneliness endures.
The king noticed his daughter's grief, and in his distress, he decided to gift her one of the great treasures of the kingdom, a golden bauble. He told her that this bauble possessed a great magic: merely by tapping it three times, a user could stretch the current moment to infinity. With this, the princess could live forever in a single second of joy.
The princess thanked her father, and she kept the bauble with her at all times. However, she noticed a curious thing: she would be awash with anticipation and excitement in the time leading up to a hoped-for moment, and she prepared her bauble. But when the moment came, the reality was a pale, listless parody of her fantasy, and she felt nothing but disappointment. Thus, the princess learned a great lesson: Anticipation is our sweet release from the loneliness and boredom of our world. Thus, she placed the bauble away.
She did not speak of it again for many years. When she was very old and lying on her deathbed, she sent a loyal servant to fetch the bauble. She realized that the anticipation of death was greater than any she had felt before.
She sent the servant away and held the bauble in her hand. When she at last felt the cold hand of death just inches away, she softly tapped the bauble three times. And she lived forever in the joyfulness of that moment.
Once upon a time, there was a young prince, who was very ambitious.
One day, while adventuring, he found a magic suit of armor. Upon donning the magic armor, he grew to the size of a giant.
"Why, with this power, I could crush all evildoers and rule the land with justice and joy!" the prince exclaimed. So he did.
Once upon a time there was a young princess who was very tenacious. Her kingdom had fallen into ruin and the land was overrun with bandits. She had been driven from her palace and lived as a shadow. She was forced to become a great warrior, and she lived in a hovel in the sere badlands; this home was humble and small for a princess, but it was a greater treasure than a grand palace could possibly be, because unlike most places in the land, her home was safe and secure. No brigand or assassin set within a league of her home without being slain by her great sword.
Over time, the princess gathered twelve orphans to live in her home under her protection. These orphans were the future of her kingdom, and she treasured them as if they were her own children. She protected them, taught them the art of war, and raised them in the cultures and rituals of their homeland.
One day, an old widow came upon the princess's hut, parched and starving. With kindness, the princess offered the crone food, water, and even the precious milk of the goat.
The old widow recovered and bowed her head to the princess. "My lady, you have shown great hospitality to an old woman like me! Your heart glows with a true nobility."
"It should," the tenacious princess replied. "For I am in fact the princess of this forsaken land. These sad orphans are all that remains of my civilized people, but I do not despair: they will be the bedrock upon which my country will be rebuilt."
The old lady was silent for a moment, then she spoke again. "I promised I would take this secret to my grave, but I am moved dearly by your plight and hope fervently for you to succeed. As a young woman, I found a great ruby in a cave; even being near it, I knew it had a great power. I can tell you the location of this cave, but you must venture forth. It is very far, and I would not survive the journey."
"But I cannot leave," the princess said. "What could befall these sad waifs without my protection?"
But one of the orphans stepped forward and with a strong conviction said, "You must go. We will be in danger while you are gone, but if you return with the jewel, it would rescue us all from this meager existence."
Thus heartened, the princess ventured forth, pledging to return as quickly as possible. For days and nights she traveled, eventually coming upon the cave described by the old woman. It was beset with gremlin traps, but with cleverness and wisdom, she dismantled and avoided them. At last, she stood before the glorious ruby, and when she picked it up, her body filled with power and vigor: she knew she could resurrect her kingdom.
But alas, when she returned to her humble shack, she found that all twelve of her precious orphans had been slain: only the sad bleating goat remained. The power of the ruby meant nothing.
And so in despair, the princess grasped the ruby and used its power to call down a great beam of light from the sky. This light destroyed her entire land, goats, brigands, and princess alike. All that remained was a barren gulch in which no crops would grow. And that is the sad story of the tenacious princess.
Once upon a time, there was a young princess who was very shrewd. Her people were great machinists and tinkerers, and in fact the entire kingdom was covered by a great machine of steam engines, cranks, valves, and levers. This machine carried out all necessary tasks for the people: sewing and reaping their harvests, raising and slaughtering their livestock, pumping their water, birthing their babes. The people lived among the machine, their houses cross-cut by its pipes and mighty gears. Every person in the kingdom worked on the machine, adding functions, expanding it out and up.
The shrewd princess had a young brother who was very sickly. He was attached to the great machine, and he would have died without its assistance. The princess loved her brother, and she wished more than anything for him to be well and strong.
Through study, she grew her knowledge of the machine to the point that she began to think like machinery herself. The world was cranks and sprockets: a predictable set of causes and effects. And it was with this mindset that she knew what she had to do. She took a wood axe and chopped off her left arm, replacing it with a stem-powered crank. She chopped off her legs, replacing them with wheels; she tore out her heart and replaced it with a spring; she sliced apart her body and replaced it with gears. Soon, she was just a head on top of a monstrous, complex apparatus.
Slowly, the mechanical automaton lurched toward her brother's chambers and stepped inside. He was, as ever, covered with tubes and wires, but his eyes grew large in fright when he saw the chimera his sister had become. Undeterred, the princess chopped off her own head and replaced it with a spherical contraption she had designed. Her body grabbed the levers of the machine above his bed and never moved again.
Miraculously, the young prince felt strength return to his body: a warm energy was flowing from the mass of gadgets his sister had become, and this energy was dispelling the sickness that had always afflicted him. He arose and detached himself from the machine for the first time.
But his wonder and joy was no match for the grief he felt from his sister's sacrifice. He wept.
Soon, though, he heard a voice grinding out from above him. "Do not despair," it said. "I have not left you. I live in this machine; I am everywhere at once. Together, we will grow our kingdom."
And it was so. The prince grew into a wise, strong king. The machine grew and grew until it covered the entire land and beyond, stretching over the sea, stretching to the heavens...
Once upon a time there was a young prince who was very insolent. He was so insolent that he was banished from his kingdom to the land of the trolls.
He worked as a slave for the seven Troll Kings: Broggaggugug, Yyi, Cxaxx, Gerrnal, Psoopsag, Akkakackack, and Tytherium. He cleaned their filthy banquet halls after their legendary feasts, and even though he was insolent, he never complained. They instructed him to spread mule-grease onto his body and slide along the gutters, and even though he was insolent, he complied. They forbade him from ever eating of the Allfruit, and even though he was insolent, he kept far away from the gardens.
It was great sport of the Troll Kings to spark the prince's insolence. They flogged him and starved him, but still he never disobeyed.
Their mirth grew to frustration and then to rage. They seized him and flung him to and fro. Gerrnal burned him with the flames of the sun; Tytherium froze him with the ice in the center of the earth, but he never disobeyed.
It was wise Yyi who realized: by never disobeying, the insolent prince was in fact being insolent! In his slyness, he knew their real desires and refused to comply. In fury, the Troll Kings grabbed an Allfruit from the garden and forced it into the mouth of the insolent prince, transforming him into a troll. They then banished him back to the land of men. He was forced to live the rest of his days, a stranger to his own people, as a result of his insolence.
Once upon a time, there was a young princess who was very peculiar. Her kingdom was one of rules, but she seemingly acted according to her own mysterious whims and without any heed at all to the dictates of the law.
The most peculiar thing about the princess, however, was that she was actually two princesses. She was a pair, alike in every way at their birth but growing more different as time went on. The first was curious, inquisitive, and kind. She loved the people, but she could not understand her proper duties. The second was dark, cruel, and sly. She hated the people, and she wished for nothing more than to be rid of her proper duties to be free to enact her cruelty.
The king had no patience for either of his princesses, and he refused to be near her. The queen was concerned for both her princesses, and she held her close so as to contain her.
One night, the royal family was at a grand banquet celebrating the bounty of the harvest. Law dictated that the princess must spread pepper on her mutton before consuming it, but she did not. "Why?" the first princess asked, because she truly did not understand. "Why?" the second princess asked, because she wished to instead use that pepper to burn and blind the people.
"Because it is your duty!" the queen answered, nervously.
"Because it is your duty!" the king would have said if he still spoke to the princess.
"Because it is your duty!" the people called, growing angry and afraid.
"But why?" the first princess asked, "it is arbitrary and pointless." "But why?" the second princess asked, "it restricts me from my ambitions."
"Because it is your duty!" the queen said, growing alarmed.
"Because it is your duty!" the king would have roared.
"Because it is your duty!" the people shrieked restlessly.
But the princess would not spread her pepper on her mutton. She simply sat, as the queen grew more agitated, as the king ignored her, as the people lashed themselves into a frenzy.
Eventually, the people grew so upset, they fell upon the princess, tearing her apart.
But the canny second princess saw this coming, so she hid behind the first princess, who was the sole victim of the mob's rage. With stunning speed, the second princess flung the pepper into the mob, burning and blinding them, and then she drew her sword and slew them all.
The queen begged for her life, but the princess ran her through. The king simply turned his back, ignoring all.
Thus, the princess took power of an empty, lifeless kingdom. She lived alone, her name a curse on the lips of all who speak it, inheritor of a ruined land. She lives to this day, bitter, old, and twisted.
But, she does not have to spread pepper on her mutton.
Once upon a time there was a pauper.