The Helpful Hag

Heroes need help.  It's one of the great truths found in stories across all genres and media types.  No one can go through life alone, whether it's ordinary mundane life...or the sort of life that involves an epic quest with armies opposing you.  That help can come in many forms: a sidekick, like Batman and Robin; a raid group taking on a difficult boss in a video game; a group of friends supporting one another, like in Friends; an adorable animal companion.

Fairy tales are full of helpers such as these.  Sometimes it's a talking animal.  In other stories, it's the fairy godmother.  But another archetype appears time and time again: The Helpful Hag.

Rarely named in any stories, the Helpful Hag is most often a little old lady by the side of the road.  I've also referred to her as the Kind Crone, or the Wizened Wise Woman.  She fits into the category of the Donor, an individual who provides the protagonist with aid.  Joseph Campbell recognized the Crone when encountering the first stages of a hero's journey, when they meet with someone who provides them with help of some sort.

There are several fairy tales in which three sons all set out on the same quest.  They each, along the way, encounter an old crone begging on the side of the road.  This woman is described as wizened, ugly, a poor beggar with nothing to offer.  The first two brothers refuse to share their bread with her.  The youngest, considerably kinder than his kin, splits his meal with the hag.

This is where the hag shows her true nature.  Her begging is a test; for those who show her kindness, she provides aid.  Sometimes this is a magical item.  More frequently, her aid comes in the form of advice.

But for those who spurn her request for help...well, let's take a look at one of the more famous fairy tales to see how that turns out.

The opening scene of Disney's Beauty and the Beast shows how the prince spurned the offer of a rose from a wizened old woman.  Irked by his lack of manners, she revealed that it had been a test.  In fact, the old hag was actually a beautiful, powerful enchantress.  For his rudeness, the prince was transformed into a Beast.

So the Helpful Hag is not only a benefactor towards do-gooders in fairy tales - she is also a test, to see if a character is worthy of her help.

There are a lot of myths that could serve as the origin of the Helpful Hag character.  Let us look first at Greek mythology.  Demeter spent some time wandering the earth disguised as a mortal, while she was searching for her missing daughter.  During that time she became a nursemaid for a young boy.  Seeing that the boy and his family were good, she attempted to make the boy immortal.  Unfortunately, this involved holding him in a fire - something his parents didn't take too kindly to when they burst into the room.  Demeter is one example of a Helpful Hag.

Another can be found in the Fates - or the Norns, the Moirai, or any other name you care to call them by.  Appearing in Celtic, Norse, Greek, Roman, and many other mythologies, the Fates are three women.  One is the Maiden; one is the Mother; one is the Crone.

But another example of a Helpful Hag is not actually a wizened old woman at all...but, instead, an old man.  He frequently traveled the earth under the name of High.  While there, he would offer his aid to great heroes on quests.  This man was the Norse god Odin.

Now, Norse mythology has been the basis of inspiration for a number of authors (myself included).  One such author created a character based heavily upon Odin in his mortal disguise - someone who could aid the protagonist, but never be the main character himself.

This is all a very roundabout way to confess that yes, I am comparing Gandalf to a Helpful Hag.

Can you guys think of any story examples of the Kind Crone?  Little old women offering aid abound in stories of all sorts.  One of my absolute favorite examples is from Diana Wynn Jones' Howl's Moving Castle.  Jones recognized the archetype of the Helpful Hag and turned it onto its head.  The main character spends most of the book convinced that she can't be the main character, because she's too old to go off and have adventures - so instead, she must be the helper to everyone else.  What a surprise for her when she discovers the truth!

I'll be back next week!

Intro to Common Narratives, Archetypes, and Tropes

There's an old saying - “There are no new stories.” All stories are created using the same building blocks. These blocks are common narratives, archetypes, and tropes, repeated over and over in modern literature, old fairy tales, legends, and myths. They can be put together in different ways to create something new, but the blocks themselves are a tale as old as time. I'm beginning a series of posts exploring some of these various literary tools, as well as their origins in our earliest stories. But first, let's take a closer look at some of them.

Some of these narratives appear in nearly everything. One of the best examples is a conflict between good and evil. Sometimes this can be a literal, massive battle – like Aragorn and his army facing off against Sauron in a last desperate stand. Other times this can be small. Many fables and tales use animals to present a lesson about right versus wrong. Lord of the Rings and Aesop's Fables may seem drastically different, but they rely upon the same narrative: making a choice between what is good/right, and what is evil/wrong. The vast majority of stories, both modern and ancient, rely upon this narrative in one form or another. It has made for some of the most popular stories of this time. The Rebels versus the Empire in Star Wars; the Battle of Hogwarts, where Harry and others fought against Voldemort and the Death Eaters; even zombie stories such as the Walking Dead, where the survivors fight against the dead, and others whose moral code differs from their own.

But that's a big narrative tool, and one that seems a little obvious. So let's take a look at some common archetypes in stories.

One of the most common archetypes in stories is that of the Magical Helper. There's usually two variations on this theme. The first is a human with abilities beyond the ordinary. In fairy tales, this is most often seen in the form of a fairy godmother showing up. In mythology, it can be Zeus revealing himself to his offspring, either directly or through another. I've recently started watching Grimm, and the Hispanic woman who helps Juliette understand the otherworldly side of things could fit into this category (or that of the Wise Woman, which I'll get into in a later post). The magical helper possesses abilities beyond the ordinary, and are more powerful than a regular mortal. They usually don't actually directly aid the protagonist in their quest. They can provide advice, armor/outfits, and maybe even an enchantment or two – but all they do is offer help, not solve things.

(Yes, I did just compare Zeus to a fairy godmother.)

The second type of Magical Helper is an archetype known as a Wise Animal. Ever wondered why every Disney princess has an adorable animal sidekick of some sort? It's not just a cutesy marketing tactic. Fairy tales are chock full of wise animals aiding the heroes. (Sometimes the helper is even a tree, oft times grown from a seed planted atop the grave of a loved one. Pocahontas, anyone?) Horses and birds are the most common, but there have been others.

The fairy tale of the Goose Girl depicts a magical talking horse, who aids his human even after her death. The Norse legend of Sigurd has the hero being helped by a bird. These animals usually only help the protagonists, being drawn to those who are good. They also usually don't speak to anyone other than the hero.

This archetype continues to be used in modern stories. Eragon and his dragon Saphira are one example. Disney movies are another – they tend to add Wise Animals to fairy tales that didn't originally have them. It's usually only the main character who has one. They're definitely cute, but they also serve to help the hero in their quest.

(Rajah and Maximus are my two favorites.  What about you guys?)

Moving along from archetypes, let's take a quick look at common tropes. Have you ever visited the website TV Tropes? They point out common elements used in various stories, ranging from television to graphic novels and more. Tropes can be major plot points or minor ones, but they're only considered a trope when they show up a lot. It's easy to lose yourself reading through the website, and I've always quite enjoyed it. You can look up a certain trope and see every example the article creators could think of in the expandable tabs beneath the description.

Well, certain tropes show up fairly often in fairy tales, myths, and modern stories alike. One common one is the Youngest Son trope. Heroes in a fairy tale tend to be the youngest son. A popular story element is to have the youngest son and his elder brothers set off on the same quest, but have only the youngest be triumphant. This can be seen in tales such as The White Cat. It's an underdog narrative of a sort, in which the individual who would never normally rise to greatness is able to do so. Being the youngest son in a fairy tale usually provides plot armor and weapons of some sort.

However, numbers are also important in this trope. It's good to be the youngest son, but it's better still to be the youngest of three sons. If a character in a story has two older brothers and sets off on an adventure, it's a pretty good bet he'll succeed. Want to really give him a boosted chance? Make him the seventh son. This theme is so popular that it's been made into a movie – The Seventh Son. Want super good odds for the kid? Make him the seventh son of a seventh son, as in the Septimus Heap book series. The more the odds would traditionally have been against the child making any sort of name for themselves, the greater their success shall be. This is an old, old trope, but remains prevalent in various stories. Daughters are almost always ignored in this. I say almost, because of Harry Potter. Ron Weasley was the sixth child of Arthur and Molly. He always wore hand me downs and wasn't expected to do any better than his older brothers, several of whom were quite successful. However, he became best friends with Harry and helped to save the wizarding world. His sister Ginny, the seventh child, arguably did even better – marrying the Chosen One himself, and going on to be quite a successful Quidditch player.

In the coming weeks I plan to take a closer look at several narratives, archetypes, and tropes that appear frequently in stories. From Sleep Like Death curses to Prince Charmings, I've got a lot of fun planned. I'll see you next time!

The Sunchild

Hey guys!  I apologize for the lateness of this post, as well as the lack of pictures.  I'll do my best to add them in the next day or two.  I suffered a hand injury at work, which is making typing difficult, and also wound up helping out a friend who was in the ER.  Thanks for bearing with me, and again, I'm sorry.

Today's story can be found in The Grey Fairy Book, and has its origins in a Greek fairy tale known as Maroula.

There once was a woman who had no children. She begged the Sun to send her a daughter, promising that he could reclaim the girl when she turned twelve. The Sun gave her a child named Letiko.

Letiko and her mother lived happily until the girl turned twelve, at which point the Sun reminded the woman of her bargain. She attempted to hide the girl from the Sun, blocking all light from entering her house. In her haste she forgot to block the keyhole. A beam of sunlight entered the house and took Letiko. The woman mourned fiercely.

The girl was taken back to her father's house. He often sent her on tasks, but she took a very long time on them. She would sit and cry instead of completing them.  Her tears were because she missed her mother so much.

One day her father followed her on one of her tasks, curious as to why she took so long at them. Overhearing her sorrowful weeping, he decided to send Letiko back to her mother. He tasked two hares with escorting the girl back to her earthly home. Though a lamia attempted to kill and eat the girl on the trip, they managed to make it back to the village.

A dog, a cat, and a cock who lived in the village all announced that Letiko had returned, but her mother refused to believe it, still caught up in her grief. Only when the girl was before her did she accept the truth. The hares were rewarded for returning her daughter to her. Letiko and her mother lived the rest of their days together in happiness.

Thanks for reading through my Fairy Tales Without Dead Moms (Or Wicked Stepmothers!) series!  These are some of the stories which show that good mothers do exist in fairy tales – and even sometimes survive the whole tale!  Which one was your favorite?  Do you know of any that I missed?  Let me know in the comments!

I plan to return to mythology for a while after this.  I'll see you then!

The Enchanted Snake

Hey all!  I'm back with another post in my series about fairy tales without dead moms (or wicked stepmothers).  One of the best depictions of a loving mother in a fairy tale can be found in the Italian story of the Enchanted Snake, collected in The Green Fairy Book.  It has a little bit of an East of the Sun, West of the Moon feel to it - although, since it is Italian in origin, it's more likely to have been inspired by the tale of Cupid and Psyche.  Once upon a time...

A poor woman desperately longed for a child, but had none of her own. One day her husband went out to gather firewood. Hiding in the wood he brought home was a pretty little snake. When she saw it, the woman sighed over her childlessness. To her surprise, the snake offered to be her son and to love her. The woman agreed.

She and her husband raised the snake as if he were their own child, and doted upon it greatly. The snake grew to be very large. One day he told his father that he wished to be married. The man agreed to look for a snake bride for his son, but the snake declined. He wanted to marry a human girl – the daughter of the king.

The farmer brought this request before the king, who laughed. He agreed to marry his daughter to the snake if it could turn his entire castle into ivory. The farmer told his snake son, who asked him to rub herbs all over the castle walls before dawn the next day. As he did this, the farmer saw the castle turn to precious ivory before his very eyes.

The king was shocked when the farmer came to him, his task complete. He told the farmer that the snake and princess could be married if parts of the castle grounds were turned to gold before dawn. This time the snake had his father throw trash all over the architecture, and again they transformed before his eyes. The king had one more demand – a garden full of trees made of precious stone. The snake asked his father to buy fruit from the market and sow its seeds in the garden. They sprouted before dawn into trees made out of gems.

His requests having been met, the king had no choice. He explained to his daughter, Grannonia, what he had done. She agreed to marry the snake, who went to the castle to meet her. Though everyone else was afraid at the sight of the snake, the princess stood her ground. Together they went into a room and closed the door.

There the snake sloughed off its skin, revealing a handsome young man. All was going well until the king and his wife, afraid for their daughter, looked through the keyhole.  When he had been seen, the snake cried out. He transformed into a dove before their eyes and flew away.

Grannonia had quite fallen in love with the snake and was distraught. She left that night to find the prince. A fox joined her on the road, and they traveled together for a time. Birds began to sing. When she complimented them, the fox translated for her. They told of the prince who had wooed her as a snake due to a curse that she had almost broken. He had been injured when he fled, and lay close to death. The fox explained that the blood of the birds rubbed upon his wounds could heal the prince.

Grannonia convinced the fox to catch the birds for her. Their blood obtained, the fox admitted that his blood was also needed. She managed to outwit him when he tried to flee. Killing the fox, Grannonia continued on her way.

She came to the kingdom where the prince lay and met with the king. She promised to cure his son. The king offered her the prince's hand in marriage if Grannonia could succeed. She rubbed the mixture on his wounds, which healed the prince instantly. Awakening, the prince refused his father's deal with the girl. His heart belonged to another. Realizing that he did not recognize her, Grannonia revealed herself. The two were happily married, with both royal families present. The love of his adopted mother and father had saved the prince-turned-snake.

I'll return next week with my final post in the Fairy Tales Without Dead Moms (Or Wicked Stepmothers) series!  See you then.

Rumpelstiltskin

Hello readers!

If you missed my announcement on Friday, my latest book is now out and available for purchase!  Sleeping Love is a retelling of the Sleeping Beauty fairy tale.  An amnesiac princess, a surly knight, and a bumbling prince - what could possibly go wrong?  Hijinks ensue, of course.  If you're interested, Sleeping Love can be purchased here in both paperback and ebook format.  Your support means the world to me!

And now, on with our tale!

One of the Germanic fairy tales collected by the Brothers Grimm was Rumpelstiltskin.  At first glance, this story might not seem like it has all that great of a mom.  Ladies, please, do not trade your unborn child to a strange man with magic!  Nothing good will come of it.  For as any fan of Once Upon a Time will tell you...

There was once a poor miller who boasted to the king that his daughter could spin straw into gold. The king demanded proof of this, and had the daughter locked in a room full of straw overnight. The girl was threatened with death if she could not spin it into gold before the morning.

Unable to do what her father had boasted of, the girl wept. As she cried, a little man appeared in the room. He asked why she was crying. When she explained what had happened, the man promised to win the straw into gold for her in exchange for payment. She gave him her necklace, and by morning the room was full of spun gold.

But the king was a greedy man, and he was not satisfied. He locked the girl in an even larger room full of more straw. She was ordered to spin it all to gold before morning, or she would be killed. Once again she began to cry – and again, the little man appeared. In exchange for her ring, he soon had all of the straw spun into gold. The king again was filled with greed, and locked her in the largest room of all, filled with straw. On the third night she had nothing to give the little man when he appeared. He offered to repeat his spinning trick in exchange for something she did not yet possess: the child she and the king would bear.

Since the girl could not imagine herself as queen, she agreed. The straw was all transformed into gold. When the king arrived the next morning, he made her his queen. The bargain with the little man was mostly forgotten, until a child was born to the royal duo. He appeared in her room one night and reminded the queen of her promise. Unwilling to part with her child, she begged and pleaded. The little man offered her a bet. If she could guess his name in three days, he would leave her and the child alone. If she could not, the child would be his.

For three days the queen thought of every name she could and quizzed the little man – but none belonged to him. During this time messengers swept the kingdom, searching for his name. One happened to be near the little man's home. He overheard the man cackling about how he, Rumpelstiltskin, had bested the queen.

Armed with this knowledge, the queen confronted the little man when he returned to claim her child. She called him Rumpelstiltskin. Having lost his own bet, Rumpelstiltskin's fury was so intense that he tore himself in two. The queen and her child were safe.

Trading a child off to a stranger is definitely not a great example of motherhood.  However, once the child was born the queen loved the baby with all of her heart.  She went to great lengths to protect her child from Rumpelstiltskin.  Her actions make her a good mom (at least in my opinion).

I'll be back next week with another fairy tale without dead moms (or wicked stepmothers)!  See you then!

Rosanella

Hey all!  I hope you had a lovely weekend.  Today I'm taking a look at another fairy tale without a dead mom (or a wicked stepmother).  Shall we begin?

Rosanella is a French fairy tale, and was collected in Andrew Lang's The Yellow Fairy Book. Much like The Little Green Frog (another fairy tale with a good, living mother), it features meddlesome fairies. In the story, two fairies had a bet going about which one could outperform the other. One, Surcantine, chose a young prince and made him fickle, unable to settle on any one maiden. The other, Paridamie, chose a princess so beautiful that all who saw her would fall in love with her. The competition began.

The princess' name was Rosanella, named so for the rose birthmark upon her neck. Her mother loved her dearly. One night the queen had a nightmare that the baby had been kidnapped. She and the maids rushed to the nursery, where the found Rosanella missing. The queen wept and was inconsolable, as was the king. In an effort to cheer up his wife, he sent her into the countryside. There she met twelve identical peasant girls, each carrying a basket. Within each basket was a baby girl with the same birthmark as Rosanella.

The queen adopted the girls as her own and took them back to the castle. Though she named them each, their names were soon forgotten; instead, the girls were called by their dispositions as they grew older. One was Beautiful, another Sweet, another Joy, and on it went. Many princes arrived to woo the princesses as they grew older, but none succeeded. Then Prince Mirliflor, he of the fickle heart, arrived.

Mirliflor fell in love with not one of the princesses, but with all twelve. He stayed at the castle for a very long time, unwilling to be parted from the girls. Then disaster struck. A swarm of enormous bees arrived and carried the twelve princesses away.

The queen was heartbroken by her loss, but so was Mirliflor. He locked himself away and sulked in his room for days.

Only when a joyful outcry erupted outside did he emerge. To the surprise of everyone, the princess Rosanella had returned! The fairy Paridamie had brought her back to the queen. Though she was overjoyed, the queen asked about her other twelve daughters. Her question was answered when Mirliflor approached Rosanella. He saw within her each of the attributes he had loved so well in the other girls. The fairy then revealed that she had split Rosanella into twelve, and that the princesses had been the queen's original daughter the whole time.

And so it was that Paridamie won the bet, for Surcantine was forced to admit that she had been bested. Mirliflor and Rosanella were married, much to the joy of her mother.

I'm quite impressed by the queen.  Not only was she a wonderful, loving mother to Rosanella - she was willing to put aside her heartbreak to raise and love twelve girls after her daughter went missing!

I'll be back later this week with a special announcement post...because Friday, Sleeping Love releases!

I'll see you then!

Sleeping Love Sneak Peek

Hello all!

My next book, Sleeping Love, comes out on Friday the 18th!  It's a retelling of Sleeping Beauty.  I posted an early book synopsis here, but I've tweaked things a bit since then.   To celebrate the upcoming release, today I'm giving you all a sneak peek at the cover, the new synopsis, and...the first chapter!

I hope you guys enjoy!

As a baby, Rosalie was cursed to prick her finger and fall into a cursed sleep.  Now the curse is broken...but she remembers none of her past life.  Even worse, everyone else in her kingdom remains asleep.  Left with no alternatives, Rosalie agrees to marry the prince who awakened her - if he can make her fall in love with him before they arrive in his homeland.

But it's a long journey back to his kingdom, and Rosalie is filled with doubts.  Chief among them is the fact that Prince Justin's guard, Elliot, has eyes exactly like a boy she keeps dreaming about.  Are they just dreams, or are they memories?  Does Elliot hold some secret to her past?

Caught between a forgotten past and an unforeseeable future, Rosalie must follow her heart.

She woke up slowly, her mind fighting to stay in the comfort of the dark. Her body awoke first, her limbs tingling with a thousand pins and needles as though she had slept for a long time. For some reason her lips were also tingling. A voice spoke near her, and her tired mind took a while to process the words. When it finally managed, they made no sense to her. “It didn’t work,” sighed a high, somehow nervous voice. A significantly deeper voice uttered a hoarse curse from farther away from her.

The struggle to understand finally tore the last vestiges of sleep away from her. Her eyes opened. The room was dark, the only light within it pouring in through cracks in what inexplicably appeared to be an enormous rose bush growing through the window. Two men stood within the room. The first was young and slender, with short-cropped hair and rich, ornate clothing. His eyes widened as she sat up. “M’lady?” he said hesitantly, his voice identifying him as the nervous one. “I’m here to rescue you!”

The second man inhaled sharply from where he stood near the window. He was older than the first, perhaps in his thirties. His hair was long, pulled back into a tail, and his practical armor had obviously seen use in combat. It was his eyes which drew her attention, though. His face was a mask devoid of feelings, but all the emotion he strove to hide could be seen within his eyes. Pain, fear, longing, and something she couldn’t identify all lingered there.

The young man’s face suddenly swooped into her field of vision. “M’lady?” he asked.

She blinked, recalling his earlier words. “I’m sorry,” she said slowly. “Rescue me from what?”

His brow furrowed. “From the curse, of course!”

The other man stepped closer. “Do you remember?” he asked. His gruff voice was surprisingly gentle.

She frowned as they both watched her, the young man nervously, the older sadly. “I’m sorry,” she repeated after a moment. “I don’t. I know this sounds strange, but do either of you happen to know my name?”

She watched as the older man’s eyes widened. The young man laughed. He stopped when she looked at him, her expression belatedly informing him that she wasn’t joking. “Oh my. You really don’t know your name?”

She shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t remember anything. That’s strange, isn’t it?”

The young man looked to the older for help. Obviously hesitant, the second man walked over to her bedside and gently knelt beside it. He met her gaze for a moment, and she was struck by how green his eyes were before he looked away. “Your name is Rosalie,” he said. “You are a princess, and this castle is your home.”

She looked around the room again, taking in more details this time. Now that he mentioned it, there was a feeling of opulence to the room; rich tapestries lined the walls, the bed she sat upon was soft and warm, and the broken window had at one time been made of stained glass. Everything in the room was covered in a layer of dust. She – Rosalie – frowned. 

“What happened to this place?” she asked.

“The curse!” the young man exclaimed, coming around and sitting on the bed beside her. She scooted back, uncomfortable, and the older man shot a glare at the younger. “Forgive me,” he said, holding up his hands. “I’m Prince Justin, by the way.”

Rosalie shook her head. “You keep mentioning a curse. What curse?”

“You were placed under a spell at your naming day,” the older man explained. “The curse did not take effect until you were almost eighteen.”

Prince Justin nodded excitedly. “You and everyone else fell into a deep sleep, only to be woken when you were given true love’s kiss.” He blushed at this. Rosalie suddenly had a horrified feeling that she knew exactly why her lips had been tingling.

“Wha– you kissed me?” She jumped out of bed, backing away from him. The prince stood to follow, but the older man grabbed his arm, stopping him. “I don’t even know you! How can that be true love?”

He hesitated, searching for words. An even more dreadful thought occurred to her. “Wait – do I know you? Did I, I mean? Were we in love?”

Justin's response was awkward. “No, m’lady. I apologize. I heard stories of your curse and came to see if I could free you from it. I had not met you before today.”

Rosalie shook her head vehemently. “Then how can it be true love?”

It was the older man who answered. “There was more to the curse than my companion said, Princess. Only a kiss from one of noble birth could break the spell.”

She frowned. “Your story keeps changing. I don’t even know who you people are, and you expect me to believe that I’m a princess, and my castle was under a curse? Why curse a baby in the first place? Who would do such a ridiculous thing?”

Justin raised a hand to stop her rant. “Elliot, would you go and see if you can find the King or Queen, please? Perhaps this would sound better coming from them - maybe she’ll remember her parents.”

The older man hesitated, shooting one last look her way before walking out the door. Justin waited until he had left before approaching her. “Rosalie, I know this must be difficult for you–” he began.

“Don’t! Don’t come near me,” she insisted, holding both hands before her. He paused, biting his lip in the awkward silence which followed.

Elliot strode back in. She hadn’t thought it possible, but his face was somehow more serious than it had been before. “I’m afraid I can show you proof of the curse,” he said.

“What? How?” Justin asked.

Elliot grimaced. “It appears waking her did not wake the rest of the castle. Everyone else is still asleep.”

Justin’s eyes widened, but Rosalie pushed past him before he could say anything. Elliot wordlessly held the chamber door for her as she stalked out of the room. He quickly caught up with her as she descended the stairs – apparently her room was at the top of a tower – and grabbed her elbow as she reached the bottom. She recoiled from his touch, but he looked even more uncomfortable than she. “Princess…this is not a pleasant sight,” he warned.

She held her head high. Thumping from behind her told her that Justin was catching up. “I’ll manage,” she responded, once more brushing past the man. The corridor was dark, its windows blocked by the same rose bushes that had forced their way into her room. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust. She nearly tripped over the first body on the floor.

She bit back a scream, determined not to prove Elliot right. She knelt next to the body, gingerly raising the woman’s wrist to check for a pulse. Rosalie bit back a sigh of relief when she found one. She began to shake the woman’s shoulders, trying to wake her up.

Elliot knelt beside her, shaking his head. “It’s no use, Princess. Their sleep is too deep.”

“How?” she asked. “How can this be?”

“I agree,” came Justin's voice from behind her. “I thought the others would wake up when she did?”

They both looked at Elliot. His face was in shadows as he shook his head, but Rosalie thought he looked as confused as they did. “I do not know,” he murmured after a moment. “That was what the curse said…”

Rosalie stood as well, shaking off Justin’s attempts to help her to her feet. “Perhaps you’d better tell me about this curse, then – and this time, start at the beginning!”

…

They walked around the castle as they talked, finding bodies lying sleeping in almost every room. The group stopped in the first courtyard they found, preferring the light of day to the grim, quiet darkness within the castle. The courtyard was in the same state of disrepair as the rest of the castle. Its fountain and stepping stones were cracked and full of overgrown weeds. It had once been left open on three sides, with high arches that must have offered a view of the surrounding lands, but the openings were long since overgrown with rose bushes. The luxurious, heady scent of the flowers surrounded the group as Elliot spoke of the curse.

“The King and Queen had been desperate for a child for years,” he began. “Upon your birth they celebrated, and invited the whole of the kingdom to do so with them. Everyone was invited to your name day, and a great feast was prepared. Unfortunately, unbeknownst to them, one of the creatures ordered slaughtered for the feast was a swan that was a familiar to a local sorceress.”

“Enraged at the death of her familiar, the sorceress arrived late to the feast just as the gifts were being given. She pushed her way to the front of the line, protesting that she too had a gift for the royal family. ‘As you have taken that which I love from me, so I will take that which you love from you,’ she declared. ‘By the eve of her eighteenth birthday, your daughter shall prick her finger upon a spindle. She and all in the kingdom shall fall into a deep sleep – a sleep that can only be broken by true love’s noble kiss.’ ”

Rosalie frowned. “Then why did I wake up? Justin may be noble, but I don’t love him.” She looked at the young man, who had flushed at her comment. “I’m sorry, but I don’t. How could I love someone I’ve never even met?”

He shook his head. “I understand. I don’t know why it worked. But it did, so that’s good, right?”

Elliot shook his head. “The rest of the castle should have woken up with her, and there’s nothing in the curse about a loss of memory. I don’t know what happened.”

“So I’m eighteen, then?” Rosalie asked. “Or younger, since the curse said by my eighteenth birthday…”

“Just a few days away from eighteen,” Justin responded. “The curse struck just before your birthday.”

Rosalie nodded. “And I’ve been asleep for how long?”

Elliot abruptly stood and walked away, leaving Justin to answer. “Thirteen years, m’lady,” he said quietly.

“Thirteen years?!” She rose from the dilapidated stone bench, the prince trying to follow and calm her down. “That’s only five years less than I’ve been alive! Do I look thirty now? What about the old people in the kingdom? Oh goodness, are they over a hundred now?!”

“You haven’t aged,” came Elliot’s harsh voice. “None of the victims of the curse aged.”

She breathed a sigh, relieved by that small blessing. “But still! Our relations with other kingdoms must have fallen into ruin. If the growth of these plants is anything to go by,” and here she aimed a kick at a nearby cluster of weeds, “then the fields are probably overrun with useless plants. Even if we could wake up the others, what would they awaken to?”

Justin shook his head. “I know for a fact that most other kingdoms have forgotten all about Ilaeria. The curse must have made people’s memories of your kingdom sleep too – even Fahra doesn’t remember you!” Seeing her blank look, he quickly amended his statement. “I’m the Prince of Fahra, which is only a week’s journey away.”

“If your kingdom forgot about us, then how did you know to come find me?” Rosalie asked. “Did you somehow remember Ilaeria?”

“I had no proof that it was real,” Justin admitted. “But bards and storytellers have made mention of Ilaeria for years now. I’ve no idea how they knew about it, but somehow they did. They sang of a sleeping princess and of a curse. I fell in love with the story years ago, and came to find you as soon as I came of age.”

Rosalie frowned. “Maybe that’s how you woke me up – you loved the story, the idea of me, even if you didn’t love me.”

The prince flushed again. “I came with the intention of doing the honourable thing,” he replied. “There is nothing for you here now. Your kingdom may be in ruins, but mine is wealthy. If– if you will have me, I will bring you back to Fahra as my bride.”

She stared at him for a moment, trying to judge if he was serious. Determining that he was, she protested, “But you still don’t know me!”

“Regardless, I fell in love with the sleeping beauty a long time ago,” Justin replied. “And in time, I feel that you could grow to love me as well.”

Rosalie shook her head. “You fell in love with a story, not with me! I’m more than just a…a sleeping damsel in distress for you to swoop in and rescue!”

“Really? Then who are you?” There was no malice in his question, but it stung nonetheless.

“I'm–” she hesitated, willing her memories to return. Her mind remained clouded. She shook her head, furious, but was unable to argue against him.

Justin nodded. “You can’t remember anything. You have nothing and no one here. I can offer you peace, security, and my love. Give me a chance, and I feel we can be happy together.”

She shook her head again. “But I don’t know you.” It was a weak protest, but it was all she had.

His voice was not unkind as he replied, “You know me better than you know anyone else.” Seeing the look on her face, he held up his hands. “I’ll make you a deal, m’lady – return to my kingdom with me. If at any point your people wake up, or you remember your life, I’ll personally bring you back here. But if you give me a chance on our journey home, and if you fall in love with me, I will announce our engagement upon returning to Fahra.”

Rosalie hesitated. The prince patted her on the shoulder. “Think about it,” he said. She hated that his voice was kind as he walked away.

“What choice do I have?” she responded, her voice so quiet that he scarcely heard her.

Justin looked back at her, pity upon his face. “I don’t know. I’m giving you the best choice I have.”

Rosalie bit her lip, fighting back tears as he left her.

…

The fading light in the courtyard told Rosalie that the sun was beginning to set. She stood and headed for the door to the castle’s interior. Her cheeks were still damp from crying, but her face was resolute, and her mind made up. Justin was not unkind, and his offer was the best choice she had available to her.

Rosalie stopped when she entered the castle hallway, her eyes taking a moment to adjust to the darkness within. She began to walk, not really knowing where she was headed. Footsteps muted by the rich carpet below made her whirl around, only to find Elliot standing a few steps behind her.

“Forgive me, Princess,” he murmured, not meeting her gaze. “I did not mean to startle you.” Rosalie’s eyes widened, and she raised a hand to her wet cheek. Had he stood by the door the whole time she had cried?

Elliot's awkward cough confirmed her suspicions. She blinked rapidly, trying to regain her composure. “It is I who should apologize. I thought you would have gone with the prince.”

The knight shook his head. “He tasked me to watch over you while he checked the castle for supplies.”

Rosalie nodded. “I see. May I ask you something?”

His brow furrowed, but he nodded. Rosalie gestured for them to begin walking, and the knight took the lead, seeming to know his way around the castle. “You heard our conversation?” she asked as they gingerly traversed around the bodies that littered the floor.

It was difficult to tell in the dim lighting, but Rosalie thought Elliot’s neck seemed flushed at her question. “I did,” he replied without turning.

“You serve the man. What is your opinion of Prince Justin?”

Elliot hesitated before answering. “He is kind,” he said, his tone thoughtful. “He does not stand to inherit the throne, and so has little interest in politics, but he is still wealthy. He is young, in more ways than just age – but he is honest, and trusting. If he tells you something, you may know it to be true.”

Rosalie blinked, startled by the amount the knight had shared. Her interactions with him thus far had led her to believe he was a man of few words. “You speak highly of him.”

Elliot nodded. “I have served his father for almost five years now. I watched the Prince become a man. I admire him more than I do his brothers.”

They entered a room larger than any they had traveled through. Its ceilings were high and hung with chandeliers; the walls were draped in rich, thick curtains. Rosalie stared up at the chandeliers, fascinated, and found her steps suddenly blocked by Elliot. “I’m sorry,” he murmured as she looked at him in confusion. “I didn't want you to trip.” He gestured with one hand and she followed the movement, gasping as her gaze fell to the floor.

The room was littered with dozens of bodies, all of them richly attired. Silken suits and shimmering gowns drew her eye. She had been about to stumble over one when the knight stopped her. Rosalie shook her head, feeling sickened as she looked around the room. “There’s so many of them,” she whispered.

She could feel the silent worry in Elliot’s gaze. “There was a dance, the night of the curse. Most of the kingdom was gathered here.” Her eyes snapped up to his face as he gently touched her wrist. “I’m sorry – there was no other way out. This way, Princess.” His voice was as gentle as his hand as he led her through the room. Rosalie did not look down again, trusting him to lead her through the maze of sleeping bodies.

She breathed a sigh of relief when they exited the room, and thought she heard a small exhale from the knight as well. “Thank you,” she said as he released her hand.

He gave a slight bow before taking up his position at the front. “It is my duty,” came his taciturn response.

…

Justin was waiting for them when they emerged from the castle a few minutes later. “There you are!” he said, rising from where he perched on the steps leading up to the door. “I was beginning to worry you had gotten lost – I know I did.”

Rosalie shook her head. “Your knight seems to know his way around the place.” She watched as Elliot descended the stairs, walking past Justin to where three horses were tethered.

The prince nodded. “He’s better at seeing in the dark than I am, at least. M’lady, I did not think you would want to stay inside the castle, so I took the liberty of moving some blankets and the like out here. We have a tent which you are welcome to use.”

She shuddered at the thought of sleeping amongst all of the others within the castle. “That’s very considerate, thank you.” She walked hesitantly towards him, noticing that the prince seemed as nervous as she did. “I thought about your offer…”

“Please, let me say something first,” Justin interjected. “I realize that this must be very traumatic for you, and I shouldn't have said anything before letting you get your bearings. I just wanted you to know that there are options available to you. However, I don't want to make you do anything you don’t want to do. I’d be more than happy to just escort you to Fahra and help you start a new life there – a life that does not have to include me.”

Rosalie blinked. “That’s very generous of you – as was your first offer. I realize that I don’t have many choices available, and I understand that you’re just trying to help. I’m sorry if I seemed rude earlier.”

The prince shook his head. “Again, I understand. This is a trying time.”

“What you offered me is more than I have any right to expect. And you’re right – I don’t know who I am. I don’t know what I know how to do. I don’t even know if I could survive on my own. So…I would like to accept your offer, if you’re still willing.”

Justin seemed taken aback. “You would marry me?”

She held up a hand, trying to forestall the excitement she saw rising in his face. “If I fall in love you with before we reach Fahra, you will announce our engagement. Those were your words, correct?” Rosalie waited until he nodded before continuing. “Good. If I do, we will proceed as discussed. Otherwise, you drop me off in Fahra and leave me to make my own way. Does that sound fair?”

“More than fair,” Justin replied, beaming. “Thank you, m’lady!”

Rosalie shook her head, a little amused by his glee. “And no more calling me m’lady. If I am a princess, then we are of equal rank, so you should call me by my name…assuming I’m remembering my etiquette correctly. Besides, maybe then I’ll get used to hearing it.” She thought she saw Elliot smile faintly at her quip as he headed towards them, having set up the tent near the treeline.

Justin laughed at her comment. “Rosalie it is, then. Or do you prefer Rose?”

She shook her head vehemently, unsure as to why the name seemed so wrong to her. The frown Elliot now bore told her he shared her sentiments, though she couldn’t imagine why. “Just Rosalie, please.”

Justin nodded, seeming confused at her insistence. Elliot cleared his throat, drawing the prince’s attention to him. “The Queen is named Rose,” he explained quietly.

Rosalie blinked, realizing that she had not even known her own mother’s name. The realization left her with a hollow feeling inside. She waited as Justin excused himself and went to check on their campsite before approaching Elliot. “Please,” she said quietly. “My father – what was his name?”

There was sympathy on Elliot’s face as he looked at her. “Phillip,” he replied softly. She nodded, and was thankful when he turned without another word and left her to her thoughts.

…

The evening was pleasant, with only a slight chill creeping in after the sun had set. When Rosalie approached the camp she found that a blazing fire had been lit close to the tent, which looked rather spacious to her. Justin and Elliot both had mats set up near the fire. A pot of something that smelled delicious hung from a brace above the flames. The young prince sat on his bedding and gently stirred the pot, replacing the lid when he was done.

Justin gestured for Rosalie to sit on the second mat; seeing that Elliot was nowhere to be seen, she complied. “You can cook?” she asked, surprised.

He laughed. “Not something you expect from a prince, I know, but I love the kitchen. I’m the youngest of seven sons, so my father always let me study whatever I wanted.”

“Well, it smells delicious.” She smiled at him, glad that he was willing to do menial tasks. Could she even cook, she wondered?

“Should be done in a few minutes. We brought enough supplies to last for the journey back, though Elliot has been supplementing our diet with fresh meat.”

“Where is he?” Rosalie asked.

Justin shrugged, gesturing to the woods. “Out keeping watch somewhere. I doubt we’ll see him until he wakes me for my turn; he’s eaten by himself every night we’ve been out here. Keeps to himself, mostly.”

He served her a bowl of the stew, and Rosalie accepted it from him gratefully. The smell of it had reminded her stomach that it had not eaten in thirteen years. She tried to be ladylike in her eating, but judging by the small smile Justin tried to hide behind his own bowl, her efforts were in vain. “He said he’s served your father for several years?” she asked around mouthfuls, hoping to distract the prince with conversation.

“Almost five, now,” he mused. “He’s a good man – somewhat terse, as you’ve undoubtedly noticed, but with a heart of gold beneath the gruff.”

She laughed at the description. “Why is he so stern? And this is delicious, thank you.”

“I’m glad,” he replied. “And I’m not sure. He’s always been fairly quiet, but he’s not normally this uncommunicative. He was in the wars, before coming to my father; he served as a mercenary, if I recall. Battle can make a man withdraw into himself. I’ve seen it with the palace guards. They only truly open up with each other, because no one else understands.”

Rosalie looked into the darkness of the woods, wondering if Elliot could hear them. She turned back to find that Justin had topped off her bowl, winking at her when she noticed. Rosalie blushed, reasonably certain that a lady was not supposed to devour her food. But she was ravenous, and Justin didn’t seem to mind.

The prince looked out into the woods while she finished her bowl of stew. “He’s a good man,” he stated. “My brothers bullied me before Elliot first came to the castle – said I was better with a spoon than with a sword. Elliot showed me how to fight. He trained me outside of my normal hours with the swordsmaster. They couldn’t understand how I was suddenly so much better. But the bullying stopped. I think that generous heart is what made my father accept him into the knights.”

He took her bowl from her when she had finished, putting it aside to be washed in the morning. “We should get some rest,” he said, standing and offering a hand to pull her to her feet. “It’s getting late, and we’ve an early start tomorrow. The tent is set up – please let me know if you need anything else.”

Rosalie thanked him, then thanked him again when he held up the flap that served as the entrance to the tent. “Good night,” she murmured as she ducked inside.

“Good night, Rosalie,” he replied. The flap dropped closed, and Rosalie was relieved to see that the fire provided enough light to glimpse the insides of the tent by. It was simple, but there were blankets on the floor to provide padding with another to go over her, and there were pillows. The tent had enough room to allow her to stretch comfortably, and was tall enough that she barely had to duck inside. She heard Justin settle onto his mat outside and followed his example, lying down and pulling the blanket over her.

Falling asleep was harder. Justin began to snore within minutes of lying down, but Rosalie just lay there, unable to sleep. Perhaps it was because she had slept for so long, or because she had awakened only hours before, but her body seemed unwilling to fall back into the darkness slumber offered.

She was still awake several hours later, so she heard Elliot approach the campfire. He settled onto his mat. She was surprised that he didn’t wake Justin for his turn at keeping guard. The fire had died down to just embers, leading her to believe that the watch was half done. Elliot just sat there, not waking his counterpart. After a few minutes she smiled in the dark, realizing that he was letting the prince snag an extra hour or two of sleep.

“He’s a good man,” she remembered Justin’s words. She rather thought she agreed with the prince.

Elliot was still sitting watch when she finally drifted off.

…

The boy was with her – he was always with her during their free time, much to the chagrin of their tutors. She smiled as he met her at the bottom of the stairs, both of them dressed in casual clothes they kept specifically for exploring. They had learned early on that trouble would come if their good clothes showed up dirty or torn.

“Ready?” he asked, his white smile a sharp contrast to his tanned skin.

“Ready!” she agreed, beaming back at him.

He looked slightly askance at the basket she carried, but nonetheless fell into step with her as they headed for the woods. “What’s that for?” he asked.

“Father’s started me learning from an herbalist,” she replied. “I thought if I brought some different plants back from the wood, I could say this was for educational purposes.”

The boy threw back his head and laughed. “You’ll still get in trouble if they find out where you got the plants.”

She shrugged. “Then I’ll keep the plants for my personal collection. I’m twelve and I’ve never been outside the castle grounds. I want that to change, and the wood is right here to explore.”

“You’re not worried?” he asked as they entered the tree line. “Or scared?”

She stopped, looking at him sideways. “Why would I be scared?”

The boy shook his head, amused. “You wouldn’t be, would you. I just don’t want you to get into trouble.”

She laughed. “I’ll make you a deal – I’ll tell you what plants not to touch if you protect me from any vicious animals we may find. That should keep us out of trouble. And when we get back, we tell them we were climbing trees in the courtyard again.”

He chuckled again, his green eyes catching the light that filtered in through the trees. “You see, Sally, this is why I like you!”

Together they headed into the woods, the boy whistling a jaunty tune as they lost themselves amongst the trees.

I hope you guys enjoyed the sneak peek!  Next week I'll be returning to my series of posts on fairy tales without dead moms (or evil stepmothers).  Keep an eye out for an announcement about the release of Sleeping Love!