Yet Another Fairy Tale

[Daeiel]

Once upon a time, there was a kingdom.

This particular kingdom was split into three regions: Grimmsburg, Andersonville, and Fables.

Each region answered to a set of five unbreakable rules, listed (for the reader's convenience) below:

1. The Maiden Must Be Rescued
2. The Witch/Dragon/Giant Is Irrevocably Evil
3. The Prince Finds True Love In Whatever Way He Sees Fit
4. Faithful Servants Are Honored Above All Others
5. Everyone Lived Happily Ever After

No one knows why these rules are unbreakable. No one's ever tried to break them before.
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Basically, this is just a roleplay to give the site some life. Have fun re-telling fairy-tales! I know I will...

[Jack Spinner]

(LOVE. IT. And why don't you just admit you're cheating on 19th century British Literature with Fairy Tales and Aarne-Thompson Classifications. Admit it. ADMIT IT!!)

It was an odd behest, to say the least.
Perhaps odd was not quite the right adjective. 'Odd' hardly seemed strong enough to describe the Last Will and Testament of Her Royal and Most Benevolent Highness, the Queen. 'Peculiar' did not fit the bill either, nor 'Strange', nor 'Alien'.
The only suitable descriptive word seemed to be 'Psychotic'.
It was done in a legal and above-broad manner, properly witnessed, properly signed, sealed, and delivered. It was just odd.
"Should My Husband, His Royal and Most Magnanimous Highness, the King, Ever Seek to Take Another Wife, She Shall Not Take My Place as Queen Unless Her Hair Shines Like Spun Gold, Much Like Mine, the Royal and Most Benevolent Highness, Queen Ariella."
The witness was her husband, and her daughter, Aleia.
'Psychotic' was, perhaps, the only word for it.
Aleia certainly did not understand why her mother would be so controlling. Why shouldn't the King marry anyone he chose? Why did he need to marry again at all? Queen Ariella was not yet cold in the grave, only cold in the bed, with an ashen pallor casting gray over the entire Court.
But both Aleia and the doctors had hope she would recover. The Will was signed, anyhow.
Aleia's father hardly knew what he was signing. He was entirely wracked with sorrow, clenching his wife's clammy hands, as if squeezing them would wring the sickness out of her. Sickness does not work that way, of course. Sickness was not governed. It didn't fall under The Five.
Aleia knew that sickness was free to do as it chose, and if it chose to take the Queen, then taken would she be. All Aleia could do was hope, and provide support for her father, the King, in this most desperate time of need.
She had signed the Will, of course. It had been required of her to sign it. She had given her mother what she hoped was an extremely puzzled look, but still her quill scratched its way across the parchment, in her queer and loopy handwriting. Her golden hair slipped off of her shoulders as she looked towards her mother.
"Mother?" she said.
The king sat by his wife, pressing her cold hands to his chest. His eyes were red-rimmed from weeping, his shoulders hunched in defeat.
Aleia sat on the opposite side of the bed, hoping the sudden shift would cause her mother to stir.
"Mother?" she whispered once more.
"It's no use," cracked the voice of the King, hoarse and dry with sorrow, "She's dead." He looked at his daughter with his red, red eyes, tears dripping down his three-day beard. He stared at her face, the very image of his wife's, and at her golden hair. Aleia's held more luster than her mother's. He noticed this with his teary gaze, he noticed how her eyes softened, how her lips pursed. She looked exactly like her now-dead mother.
"Father," said Aleia, "I'm so sorry."
The trumpets could be heard, announcing the death of Her Royal and Most Benevolent Highness, the Queen Ariella. The King stooped his head, kissed his wife on the lips, and looked at his daughter.
"Not to worry, my dear," he said, "My next queen will look just like her, so says the Will. It'll be like she never even left."

[Daeiel]

((False. Blackbear.

And I loved your post!!!))

[Daeiel]

((Okay, after stalling on a story I started {wow, that's pathetic}, I have finally chosen a fairy-tale. Here we go!))

Gizelle knew what to expect when her mother started giving her nicer toys. This was at three years of age.

She knew what was coming when her mother gave her a softer, more elegant bed, forcing Gizelle's twin sister Gemma to sleep on a straw-stuffed cot. Gizelle knew what was coming.

She tried to stop it. She honestly tried to nip it in the bud before it really spiraled out of control. But it was always, always fruitless.

"Here, Gemma," she would say, "Come share my toys with me!"

Or, perhaps, "Gemma," she'd begin, "How about we switch beds?"

It was no use. Gemma knew what was coming too, and she was dead-set against changing anything.

"No thank-you," she'd whimper, "I must dutifully play with the toys Mother has so kindly given me."

Or, "Thank-you, kind sister," she'd sigh, "But I'd much rather slumber here on my humble little cot."

"Gemma," Gizelle would say, "You don't have to do that."

But Gemma would dramatically turn her head and shed sparkling tears. "I must," she'd say, "I must! I must do what I can to please my mother."

Gizelle kept trying, even up into her teens. Gizelle never stopped trying, even though she knew what was coming. She was nearly desperate.

She was every bit as gloriously lovely as Gemma; strawberry-gold hair, skin smoother than silk but pale as cream, dazzling blue eyes shining like sapphires set in an ivory crown. Her mother praised her for it, and Gizelle made a point to tell Gemma how beautiful she was as well.

"Gemma," she'd begin, "You look so pretty today!"

Gemma would bow her head and purse her lips. "It is so kind of you to say so," she'd say, "Since it is my goodness which makes me lovely."

Gizelle knew this was coming. She knew it. She'd known it. Gemma had accepted her lot in life as 'the Good One', which meant Gizelle was destined to be 'the Evil One'. It began with better toys, but would most likely end in her death. Or at least, extreme mortification.

It was not in The Unbreakable Five, this rule of Good or Evil siblings, but everyone followed it nonetheless. Their mother had probably just chosen a random twin, since they looked exactly the same, and made that one 'the Evil One', which meant 'the Good One' would have to do the chores, would suffer from slight or extreme domestic abuse, would be granted some strange and magical boon, and would most likely marry a prince. So it was set. Gemma would do all of the aforementioned, while Gizelle would be pampered and spoiled, have to treat everyone rudely, and suffer from the same magical boon Gemma was granted, except it would be maliciously twisted, as a punishment for being 'the Evil One'.

Gizelle kept trying. She did! Even if her mother was dead-set against nurturing Gemma, even if Gemma accepted her role as 'the Good One' and sank her teeth into it, Gizelle kept trying.

Gizelle supposed she wouldn't have tried so hard if Gemma was any good at being, well.....good.

It wasn't enough that Gizelle would have to be punished for life. That clearly wasn't enough. Gemma, 'the Good One', just had to be rotten and melodramatic. She just had to lord it over Gizelle. Gizelle was 'Evil', Gemma was 'Good'.

It wasn't fair, Gizelle thought, it wasn't fair at all. But, she reasoned, it would just be easier to help Gemma out. It would just be easier to accept it for Gemma.

She tried to pick up Gemma's slack. She'd finish chores and make meals, easily praising Gemma for doing so (as their own mother could hardly tell them apart). She'd help strangers and care for everyone who crossed her path, giving Gemma the glory. Gizelle did everything she could to convince the neighbors that Gemma was really 'Good', while still managing to keep herself as 'neutral'.

It wasn't until the death of the Queen that the situation really got out of hand.

((Okay, upon re-reading that, it was a bit confusing. But it'll make more sense as the story spills out : ) )

[Charm]

(i'm joining this i love fairy tales! i have the complete grimm and the complete hans christian anderson in my room )

[Charm]

(okay i didn't pick a fairy tale per say but i did pick a stereotype )

"But I hate it!" cried the young dragon.

"You don't hate it necessarily," answered his mother, "You just don't appreciate it."

"He shouldn't be hating anything," bellowed his father, "It's not natural!"

"Says who?" snapped the young dragon. His name was Szah, and he did not like his father.

"Says the Five, dear," said Szah's mother. She was a bit more understanding than his dad. "Anyway, it's time for dinner!"

"Unnatural," grumbled Szah's father. He was an enormous old fiend who was famous for stealing damsels and looting kingdoms. He hefted his great bulk out of his chair and sauntered over to the dinner table.

"Not hungry," muttered Szah. He was cat-like and thin, the opposite of his father.

"Of course you are," said Szah's mother, "Besides, we're having stewed princess. That's every dragon's favorite."

Szah's dad smiled, a big broad toothy grin. "Excellent," he said, "Though I'm really partial to fire-roasted knight myself."

"I'm not a fan of either," muttered Szah, but his mom ladeled him a hefty portion anyway.

"Eat up, dear," she said, "This is what dragons like best."

Szah looked at his stew. He felt very sorry for the princess. He did not feel hungry at all. He shook his head and pushed his plate away. "Thanks mom," he said, "But I'm not big on dragon-food." He stood up and slithered out of their dining room to sit hunched up, very like a cat, on the ledge of their cave.

"Oh dear," said Szah's mother, "I really think he means it, saying he hates being a dragon."

"Unnatural," said Szah's dad, "Oh well. More for me." And he grabbed Szah's untouched stew and poured it into his own mouth.

[Jack Spinner]

(Nice. I approve!)

Aleia told herself she was imagining things.
It was the best way to deal with the situation, she thought, it was just best to ignore it. Besides, how insane would she sound if she said her father was watching her?
The Court would attribute it to grief, she knew, the Court would think how hard it was for her now that her mother was gone. It was hard, almost unbearably so, to not be allowed to grieve for fear of disgracing the title of Princess.
It was made even worse, as Aleia had taken to hiding from her father, instead of seeking comfort.
It was just little things that struck her as odd, little movements he made, little things he said. She supposed she could act like the Court, and simply say it's because he lost his wife, but Aleia felt it was more than that. He was after her.
No, she told herself, no. That's ridiculous. No father would go after his daughter. It was a crime against heaven and earth, the Court would cry out, it was unnatural.
But Aleia was still suspicious.

(I felt really gross writing that. But it's the way the fairy tale goes!)

[Daeiel]

((You should feel gross. It's gross. : P But seriously, you are pretty gutsy for using that one. Reverse Electra Complex, ho!))

Gizelle knew that today would be different.

It was something in the air, a certain spiciness, a quirky tang; something interesting was going to happen today.

"Oh no," she moaned, "It's not magical comeuppance time yet, is it?"

She got up as she usually did, before Gemma, to tend the fire and slap the soots onto Gemma's cot for evidence. She went downstairs and made breakfast, before hopping back upstairs so her mother would think Gemma did it. It was a queer game she played, gradually convincing everyone that Gemma was Good, but it was one she played very well. Everyone was thoroughly certain that Gemma was the 'Good One', while Gizelle was not.

Still, as Gizelle curled up in the custom-dyed peacock-blue silk sheets her mother had imported from Andersonville Fairies, she couldn't help but notice that faint tingling, a piquant palpability. It made her nervous.

"Gemma!" shrieked the voice of the twins' mother, "Gemma!"

Gemma got up, gave a haughty 'I Am Good' look to Gizelle (the same one she'd been giving all her life), and said, "Coming, Mother!"

Gizelle feined sleep as Gemma was commended for making the breakfast, before being given a lengthy list of chores. Gizelle mentally charted each one. After all, she'd probably end up doing most of them.

The first one involved going to the well to get water. Gemma always forgot that one, or was too focused on her 'Goodness' to go do it, so Gizelle figured she'd go ahead and get that one out of the way.

Arranging some of her many pillows under her comforter, so that her mother would believe her pampered daughter to still be drenched in beauty-sleep, Gizelle grabbed Gemma's water bucket and slipped out of the window.

The air was spicier outside, that strange sensation which had so unnerved Gizelle earlier. Perhaps today was the magical comeuppance day, the day where she, as 'the Evil One', would be unspeakably punished. She couldn't pretend like she was excited for it. She'd known it was coming all the while. Gizelle just wished she had more time, to really drive it into people's heads that Gemma was 'Good'.

She saw the well from her house, but it wasn't until she was nearly upon it that she spotted the Old Woman.

Old Women were not included in the Five, but, more often than not, Old Women were Witches and Fairies, who would grant whoever helped them magical abilities or gifts. This Old Woman seemed perfect for Gemma, which made Gizelle realize that her number really had come up.

"Hello there, mother," she said, hoping she could pretend to be 'the Good One' and pull a veil over the old one's eyes, "How are you this morning?"

"Same as I ever was," grumbled the Old Woman, "What's it to you?"

Gizelle was a bit startled at her response, but quickly regained her sweet demeanor. "I was wondering if I could get you something. Do you need anything?"

"You're looking to get something out of it, aren't you?" cried the Old Woman, "You're looking to use me!"

Gizelle looked at this Old Woman in a most perplexed manner. "No, I'm not," she answered, "Really I'm not. I promise. If anything, my sister would be the one to 'get something out of it', but I'm actually better off if she doesn't, oh!" Gizelle clapped a hand to her mouth, hoping the Old Woman didn't pay much attention to what she had said.

"Well now," said the Old Woman, "There's a breath of fresh air. I thought you were one of those 'Good Girls', you know, the ones who are looking to spit jewels or flowers out of their mouths, or beat dusters for a month or care for some animals and expect to come back covered in gold."

Gizelle sighed, almost in relief. "No," she said again, "I'm none of those things. In all actuality, I'm 'the Evil One', at least, I would be, if the 'Good One' were any good at being good."

"Well, my dear," said the Old Woman, "You offered to help, and I'm not opposed to helping. You seem to take a practical view on this whole situation, not wanting to be granted magical boons while still taking the responsibilities of 'the Good One', without any of the credit besides. You shall be blessed indeed." And the Old Woman smiled at her, showing five rotten, blackened teeth, before vanishing completely.

Gizelle stood there, with the water bucket empty, thoroughly confused, and at the same time, immensely relieved.

((Sorry guys, that wasn't the greatest. Next one will be good though : ) ))

[Charm]

( i liked it!)

"Szah, dear," said his mother, "What seems to be troubling you?"

Szah looked at her and blinked. "Nothing's troubling me," he murmured, "I'm just not a fan of the whole 'dragon' thing."

"What do you mean?" asked his mom.

"You know," answered Szah, "Hoarding gold, stealing maidens, looting kingdoms. Stuff like that."

"But that's what we do," said his mom, "That's what dragons were made for."

"Well, I don't like it," said Szah, "I don't know why."

"Maybe you'll learn to like it," said his mom hopefully, "Maybe you should just give it a go."

"I doubt it," said Szah, "Like, I really truly doubt it."

"Oh, come now," said his dad, from around the corner, "Unnatural!"

"Don't knock it till you try it, sweetie," said his mom, "Why don't you and Dad go out and snatch a maiden? You'll see, it's so much fun!"

Szah wanted to say no. He did. But his dad was determined, and so was his mom.

"Come on, boy," said his dad, spreading his enormous wings, "Let's go steal a girl!"

"I have no idea how this could ever be considered fun," said Szah, spreading his own wings, which were much smaller than his dad's, "But let's go."