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Preface:
The Grimm tale I'm using as my source material for this retelling comes to a quick end after the king regains his human shape, and the princess is instantly happy to marry him at that point (even though she was filled with murderous rage less than a minute before). And from my aromantic/asexual perspective (and, to be fair, probably, my expectations as a reader of modern fiction), that's skipping past the most interesting part:
How do you get from "stranger" to "you disgust me!" to "maybe you're lovable, after all," when good looks are not enough to spark an initial attraction?
So this is the point where the story starts to veer off the most from the original, as I try to plot and then connect all the dots.
I made a conscious decision to use the archaic English You/Thou distinction, and not just because it's old-timey sounding. "You" (or Ye) is plural, and it's also used for people of higher rank than the speaker (it's the second person pronoun version of the Royal "We"). "Thou" is singular, and used for people of equal or lower rank -- and it's also used as term of endearment for loved ones and family. So it can be either an insult or an attempt at kindness, depending on who is saying it to whom.
And that got me thinking of how the youngest princess would have heard the differences between You and Thou. As a the daughter of the king, probably all of the courtiers, and servants in court (except for her immediately family) would have addressed her with "You." And she would have used "Thou" with everyone except visiting monarchs. But because she's the youngest daughter, she also knows that realpolitik means her father could marry her off to a baron or a knight if a treaty required it. So her sense of authority over her own life is wobbly.
(She uses "you" with the frog from the very beginning, because she realizes that magic is in play, there may be fae involved, and it's better to be safe than sorry)
Where we left off:
Under the Linden Tree
(Part 3)
She could sense the servants watching them, in the well-practiced way of not seeming to watch them at all. Halfway to the stairs, Lady Caroline, who had once been her nursery maid, caught Galantha's eye as she passed in the hallway, and smiled softly.
He ended up leaning more on her, on the way down the stairs, than she on him, testing his weight with each step, but managed to hide his uncertainty as they entered the banquet hall.
Her father was standing at the head of the table, red-faced, with clenched fists. He glared at the richly dressed stranger, then at her.
"So, it's true!?" he said, "I wasn't imagining the whispering of servants!"
"Your Majesty," the queen said, laying her fingers on his arm, her voice light, and clear, and cold, as a silver bell, "remember your royal duty to invited guests."
"Invited? Invite-- guests?!"
Cinnabar bowed. "Good morning, Your Majesty," he said. "I hope you had a restful sleep."
Her father sputtered. "I know that voice!"
"I am honored you remember it. And may I say what a pleasure it was to be a guest on your table, last night."
"On? 'On my table'? That thing? Thou!?"
"Yes. That was I."
The king huffed, and, with a sweep of his arm, gestured at the sash that the young king wore. "This bunting and glitter-- are they true emblems of royal office, or are they some player's costume?"
"This sash, along with my scepter, and crown," Cinnabar said, his voice quiet but tense, "is, indeed, an emblem of royal privilege, and duty, bestowed upon me according to the laws of my homeland."
The king turned his gaze on Galantha. "And am I to take it, then, that there must now be a wedding?"
She bowed her head. "Yes, Sire."
It wasn't until then that he seemed to notice all his guests waiting for him. He nodded and sat, and signaled for others to join him, adding: "I suppose we'll need another chair."
The young king smiled and nodded at the servant who brought it, as if he had been welcomed to the table with the same generosity as the night before.
Zephyra leaned over and murmured in her ear: "I wish thee the best, truly," she said, with a catch in her voice. "We had some happy times, didn't we?"
Galantha nodded and smiled as best she could through the flurry of quiet congratulations.
She was just beginning to relax when a servant set a large, sweetened, bread between herself and her betrothed, with the knife placed on his side of the platter. It was gilded with a glaze of egg wash and saffron, decorated with a pattern of sliced, toasted almonds, and perfectly sculpted into the shape of a frog, bulbous eyes and all.
He coughed and looked around at the faces of those seated near him.
"Oh, dear!" Aurora said, giggling, and then quickly added: "It's nothing personal, Your Majesty. This is a custom in our country, for good luck, and a fruitful marriage. Even the common people do this, though not so richly."
Galantha wanted to bury her face in her hands. Instead, she nodded. "I didn't think there was time to make one for us."
He laughed. "Oh. All's well, then," he said. He picked up the knife and studied the frog a moment, before slicing it down the middle, from nose to rump, revealing the stuffing of dried fruit, nuts, and candied citron.
Turning the platter so that both halves were equally within her reach, he waited for Galantha to make her choice.
She tried not to think how things might have gone differently, last night, as she put her half on the plate before her.
The young king smiled. He popped the eye from his half of the frog into his mouth, and chuckled.
The elder king was silent and frowning throughout the meal, which was consumed and cleared away with all the haste of a picnic interrupted by rolls of thunder.
Galantha was only granted enough time to change into the gown that had been set aside for her marriage ceremony. And the her only wedding gift was a wallet of sewing and spinning tools, along with her mother's blessing bound up in it.
The phrase "Husband and wife" was barely out of the priest's mouth when they heard the rattle and clatter of a carriage outside.
Her new husband nearly sprinted through the chapel door as the carriage slowed to a stop.
It was one of the finest Galantha had ever seen, with gilded eagles on the finials of the top, and scroll work of inlaid gems in twisting, vine-like patterns along the side. The six horses pulling the carriage had silver bells in their bridles, though they, themselves, were the sturdy, piebald, sort that Galantha had seen pulling farmers' plows, rather than the parade horses in whom elegant coat color was prized.
And it was also odd, she thought, that with a carriage so richly appointed, that there was only the coachman as servant-- that there were no footmen attending, to help keep the carriage steady on the highway, to watch out for ruts, or remove obstacles in the road ahead. And she also noted that the gold braiding on the coachman's livery was just a bit frayed, and there were spots in the sleeves of his coat that had been expertly darned, with evident care. But what sort of kingdom was she marrying into, if so much wealth was put into things, but not people?
The coachman alighted, and was in the act of dropping to one knee to honor his master when the young king interrupted him, and pulled him up into an embrace.
"Heinrich? Heinrich!" he exclaimed. "My good man-- it- it's been too long."
Heinrich pulled away-- a little too quickly, Galantha thought. But he was still smiling, and there were tears on his ruddy, weathered, cheeks, dampening the neat white beard on his chin.
He sniffled, still smiling, and squaring his shoulders, turned and bowed to her. "Your Majesty," he said. And he offered his hand to help her up into the carriage.
"Please, Sir," she said, "before we go, there's someone-- someplace-- I need to say 'goodbye' to."
The coachman's mouth tightened into a thin line, and his brow furrowed.
Galantha feared he would refuse.
But her husband spoke up. "I know the place," he said. "It's not far. I'll go with her, and make sure she won't get lost."
The coachman hesitated for just a moment, but then, with a quick bow of his head, said: "Very well, Your Majesty. As you wish."
And with that, he laced his fingers firmly with hers, and strode off toward the path leading to the linden tree. Galantha had to walk in double step to keep up.
As soon as they turned a corner, and his golden carriage was no longer in sight, however, he let go of her hand. He leaned close. "This way, he won't leave without thee," he said.
"Would he do that?" Galantha asked. For a fleeting moment, she imagined running away, but just as quickly dismissed the idea.
"Heinrich's... Something's..." He sighed. "I'm sure he's just eager to get me home."
The path narrowed. He stepped back to walk a few strides behind her, giving her some privacy, but also driving her forward, not giving her a chance to tarry.
He stopped at the edge of the linden tree's canopy, while she walked up to its trunk alone, patting it as though it were a dear friend's shoulder. Then, on an impulse, she took a penknife from her pocket, and carved a 'G' and 'C', back-to-back, into the its bark, along with the date, to join all the ancient inscriptions recorded there.
Then, she cut one of the slender, leafy, branches to take with her. She just could not bear to leave this old friend behind entirely. She dipped her kerchief into the well, and wrapped the wet cloth around the cut end of the branch. Then she hurried back to meet her new husband.
He fairly pulled he along the whole way back, only slowing down as the path widened, to allow her to come up beside him, before quickening his stride again.
No sooner were they back in the carriage than the coachman cracked his whip, and they sped off at an almost unnatural speed, the horses in full gallop before they even had taken three strides at a trot. The landscape outside the windows was nothing but a blur.
"Heinrich!" the young king called, "Must thou drive with such haste?"
"I'm sorry, Your Majesty," his servant called back. "But if we do not pass through the Capital's gate by sunset, all is lost."
(Back to Part 2)
queerly_beloved)Preface:
The Grimm tale I'm using as my source material for this retelling comes to a quick end after the king regains his human shape, and the princess is instantly happy to marry him at that point (even though she was filled with murderous rage less than a minute before). And from my aromantic/asexual perspective (and, to be fair, probably, my expectations as a reader of modern fiction), that's skipping past the most interesting part:
How do you get from "stranger" to "you disgust me!" to "maybe you're lovable, after all," when good looks are not enough to spark an initial attraction?
So this is the point where the story starts to veer off the most from the original, as I try to plot and then connect all the dots.
I made a conscious decision to use the archaic English You/Thou distinction, and not just because it's old-timey sounding. "You" (or Ye) is plural, and it's also used for people of higher rank than the speaker (it's the second person pronoun version of the Royal "We"). "Thou" is singular, and used for people of equal or lower rank -- and it's also used as term of endearment for loved ones and family. So it can be either an insult or an attempt at kindness, depending on who is saying it to whom.
And that got me thinking of how the youngest princess would have heard the differences between You and Thou. As a the daughter of the king, probably all of the courtiers, and servants in court (except for her immediately family) would have addressed her with "You." And she would have used "Thou" with everyone except visiting monarchs. But because she's the youngest daughter, she also knows that realpolitik means her father could marry her off to a baron or a knight if a treaty required it. So her sense of authority over her own life is wobbly.
(She uses "you" with the frog from the very beginning, because she realizes that magic is in play, there may be fae involved, and it's better to be safe than sorry)
Where we left off:
Her lady-in-waiting opened the door and poked her head around. "Good morning, Your Highness--" Her eyebrows rose barely a hair, and she (almost invisibly) mouthed: "frog?"
The princess bit her lip to keep from laughing at the absurdity. "Good morning, Margarete. Is breakfast ready?"
"Yes, Your Highness. His Majesty waits on you." She curtsied quickly and backed out the door.
The young king tugged at his sash, smoothing wrinkles that weren't there. "Well," he said, "they're expecting us, though probably not like this." He offered her his arm.
After a moment's hesitation, she took it.
Under the Linden Tree
(Part 3)
She could sense the servants watching them, in the well-practiced way of not seeming to watch them at all. Halfway to the stairs, Lady Caroline, who had once been her nursery maid, caught Galantha's eye as she passed in the hallway, and smiled softly.
He ended up leaning more on her, on the way down the stairs, than she on him, testing his weight with each step, but managed to hide his uncertainty as they entered the banquet hall.
Her father was standing at the head of the table, red-faced, with clenched fists. He glared at the richly dressed stranger, then at her.
"So, it's true!?" he said, "I wasn't imagining the whispering of servants!"
"Your Majesty," the queen said, laying her fingers on his arm, her voice light, and clear, and cold, as a silver bell, "remember your royal duty to invited guests."
"Invited? Invite-- guests?!"
Cinnabar bowed. "Good morning, Your Majesty," he said. "I hope you had a restful sleep."
Her father sputtered. "I know that voice!"
"I am honored you remember it. And may I say what a pleasure it was to be a guest on your table, last night."
"On? 'On my table'? That thing? Thou!?"
"Yes. That was I."
The king huffed, and, with a sweep of his arm, gestured at the sash that the young king wore. "This bunting and glitter-- are they true emblems of royal office, or are they some player's costume?"
"This sash, along with my scepter, and crown," Cinnabar said, his voice quiet but tense, "is, indeed, an emblem of royal privilege, and duty, bestowed upon me according to the laws of my homeland."
The king turned his gaze on Galantha. "And am I to take it, then, that there must now be a wedding?"
She bowed her head. "Yes, Sire."
It wasn't until then that he seemed to notice all his guests waiting for him. He nodded and sat, and signaled for others to join him, adding: "I suppose we'll need another chair."
The young king smiled and nodded at the servant who brought it, as if he had been welcomed to the table with the same generosity as the night before.
Zephyra leaned over and murmured in her ear: "I wish thee the best, truly," she said, with a catch in her voice. "We had some happy times, didn't we?"
Galantha nodded and smiled as best she could through the flurry of quiet congratulations.
She was just beginning to relax when a servant set a large, sweetened, bread between herself and her betrothed, with the knife placed on his side of the platter. It was gilded with a glaze of egg wash and saffron, decorated with a pattern of sliced, toasted almonds, and perfectly sculpted into the shape of a frog, bulbous eyes and all.
He coughed and looked around at the faces of those seated near him.
"Oh, dear!" Aurora said, giggling, and then quickly added: "It's nothing personal, Your Majesty. This is a custom in our country, for good luck, and a fruitful marriage. Even the common people do this, though not so richly."
Galantha wanted to bury her face in her hands. Instead, she nodded. "I didn't think there was time to make one for us."
He laughed. "Oh. All's well, then," he said. He picked up the knife and studied the frog a moment, before slicing it down the middle, from nose to rump, revealing the stuffing of dried fruit, nuts, and candied citron.
Turning the platter so that both halves were equally within her reach, he waited for Galantha to make her choice.
She tried not to think how things might have gone differently, last night, as she put her half on the plate before her.
The young king smiled. He popped the eye from his half of the frog into his mouth, and chuckled.
The elder king was silent and frowning throughout the meal, which was consumed and cleared away with all the haste of a picnic interrupted by rolls of thunder.
Galantha was only granted enough time to change into the gown that had been set aside for her marriage ceremony. And the her only wedding gift was a wallet of sewing and spinning tools, along with her mother's blessing bound up in it.
The phrase "Husband and wife" was barely out of the priest's mouth when they heard the rattle and clatter of a carriage outside.
Her new husband nearly sprinted through the chapel door as the carriage slowed to a stop.
It was one of the finest Galantha had ever seen, with gilded eagles on the finials of the top, and scroll work of inlaid gems in twisting, vine-like patterns along the side. The six horses pulling the carriage had silver bells in their bridles, though they, themselves, were the sturdy, piebald, sort that Galantha had seen pulling farmers' plows, rather than the parade horses in whom elegant coat color was prized.
And it was also odd, she thought, that with a carriage so richly appointed, that there was only the coachman as servant-- that there were no footmen attending, to help keep the carriage steady on the highway, to watch out for ruts, or remove obstacles in the road ahead. And she also noted that the gold braiding on the coachman's livery was just a bit frayed, and there were spots in the sleeves of his coat that had been expertly darned, with evident care. But what sort of kingdom was she marrying into, if so much wealth was put into things, but not people?
The coachman alighted, and was in the act of dropping to one knee to honor his master when the young king interrupted him, and pulled him up into an embrace.
"Heinrich? Heinrich!" he exclaimed. "My good man-- it- it's been too long."
Heinrich pulled away-- a little too quickly, Galantha thought. But he was still smiling, and there were tears on his ruddy, weathered, cheeks, dampening the neat white beard on his chin.
He sniffled, still smiling, and squaring his shoulders, turned and bowed to her. "Your Majesty," he said. And he offered his hand to help her up into the carriage.
"Please, Sir," she said, "before we go, there's someone-- someplace-- I need to say 'goodbye' to."
The coachman's mouth tightened into a thin line, and his brow furrowed.
Galantha feared he would refuse.
But her husband spoke up. "I know the place," he said. "It's not far. I'll go with her, and make sure she won't get lost."
The coachman hesitated for just a moment, but then, with a quick bow of his head, said: "Very well, Your Majesty. As you wish."
And with that, he laced his fingers firmly with hers, and strode off toward the path leading to the linden tree. Galantha had to walk in double step to keep up.
As soon as they turned a corner, and his golden carriage was no longer in sight, however, he let go of her hand. He leaned close. "This way, he won't leave without thee," he said.
"Would he do that?" Galantha asked. For a fleeting moment, she imagined running away, but just as quickly dismissed the idea.
"Heinrich's... Something's..." He sighed. "I'm sure he's just eager to get me home."
The path narrowed. He stepped back to walk a few strides behind her, giving her some privacy, but also driving her forward, not giving her a chance to tarry.
He stopped at the edge of the linden tree's canopy, while she walked up to its trunk alone, patting it as though it were a dear friend's shoulder. Then, on an impulse, she took a penknife from her pocket, and carved a 'G' and 'C', back-to-back, into the its bark, along with the date, to join all the ancient inscriptions recorded there.
Then, she cut one of the slender, leafy, branches to take with her. She just could not bear to leave this old friend behind entirely. She dipped her kerchief into the well, and wrapped the wet cloth around the cut end of the branch. Then she hurried back to meet her new husband.
He fairly pulled he along the whole way back, only slowing down as the path widened, to allow her to come up beside him, before quickening his stride again.
No sooner were they back in the carriage than the coachman cracked his whip, and they sped off at an almost unnatural speed, the horses in full gallop before they even had taken three strides at a trot. The landscape outside the windows was nothing but a blur.
"Heinrich!" the young king called, "Must thou drive with such haste?"
"I'm sorry, Your Majesty," his servant called back. "But if we do not pass through the Capital's gate by sunset, all is lost."
(Back to Part 2)
no subject
Date: 2021-10-28 03:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-10-28 03:48 pm (UTC)And as for the father's reaction, it always sort of bothered me that, in the original, the princess's father is domineering and patronizing, but then is perfectly happy to marry her off to a stranger he'd never even seen before, without questioning it even a little bit.
no subject
Date: 2021-10-28 03:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-10-28 04:52 pm (UTC)